ASTRAY 


CM! 


LOVE  GONE  ASTRAY, 


BY  ALBERT   Ross. 

AUTHOR  OF 

OUT    OF    WEDLOCK,"    "  AN    ORIGINAL    SINNER,' 
"  THOU  SHALT   NOT,"  "  WHY  I'M  SINGLE," 
"  YOUNG  FAWCETT'S  MABEL,"  ETC. 


M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  NEW  YORK 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.  In  a  Venetian  Gondola.  .         •     '3 

II.  The  Strange  Mr.  Neiling.       .  .26 

III.  "  I  could  lend  you  fifty  thousand."         .     33 

IV.  Becoming  a  Pauper 42 

V.  Darius  Yates,  Solicitor.  .        .         •     55 

VI.  "  Then  there's  a  father,  too  ?"        .         .     62 
VII.  "  You'll  be  required  to  marry."      .         .     69 

VIII.  A  Very  Blunt  Refusal 74 

IX.  "  Shall  it  be  you — or  he  ?"  .        .82 

X.  An  American  Girl.  ....     90 

XI.  Husband  and  Wife.          ....     97 

XII.  "You  must  let  me  thank  you."        .         .  108 

XIII.  Confessing  to  Mamma,     ....  118 

XIV.  "Good-night,  Gladys."    .         .        .         .126 
XV.  Life  on  the  Riviera.          .        ,         .         .  132 

XVI.  The  Family  Secret.  .        .        .         .138 

XVII.  Arrival  of  the  Baby.          ...»  145 

XVIII.  "  It's  my  husband's  room.'       .        .         .  156 

XIX.  The  Chicago  Wheat  Pit.          .         .        .168 

XX.  Colonel  Newcombe  Ruined.  .        .        .  176 

la 


2138093  ' 


0  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XXI.  "Just  my  luck  !" !8i 

XXII.  Returning  to  London 187 

XXIII.  "  You've  got  the  prettiest  wife."   .         .  195 

XXIV.  Plunged  into  Poverty 202 

XXV.  Mr.  Julius  Margrave 210 

XXVI.  "  Is  this  the  letter  ?"       .        .         .        .220 

XXVII.  A  Fair  Proposition.         ....  231 

XXVIII.  "Women  are  queer  things."  .         .        .  240 

XXIX.  A  Cross-examination 252 

XXX.  Gladys  in  Peril.      .....  260 

XXXI.  "  Stand  back  !" 272 

XXXII.  The  History  of  a  Crime.        .         .         .  282 
XXXIII,  Everything  Explained.  .  .        .  290 


TO  MY  READERS. 


AFTER  a  year  of  travel  in  Europe,  Africa  and  Asia, 
I  am  again  at  home,  happy  to  breathe  the  air  of  my 
native  land  and  to  greet  friends  steadfast  and  true. 

The  only  new  criticism  that  has  come  to  me  during 
the  past  six  months — for  most  are  mere  repetitions — 
is  because  nearly  all  my  novels  treat  of  sex.  Let  us 
see  about  that. 

"  Speaking  of  Ellen  "  and  "  Young  Fawcett's  Ma- 
bel," are  not  based  principally  on  the  question  of 
sex.  "  Moulding  a  Maiden  "  is  only  secondarily  so. 
Most  of  the  others  are.  What  is  the  reason  ? 

My  original  success  was  with  "Thou  Shalt  Not." 
There  was  the  question  of  sex,  pure  and  simple.  If 
I  had  written  first  a  romance  of  history,  or  of  mur- 
der, and  attracted  such  attention  from  the  reading 
public,  probably  I  should  have  taken  a  hint  that  my 
forte  was  in  that  field. 

"  Let  each  do  what  he  can  do  best." 

There  is  great  dramatic  action  in  the  sex  issue.  It 
appeals  to  every  man  and  woman  with  intelligence 
of  brain  and  pulses  that  move.  It  is  creeping  into 

[7] 


1  TO    MY    KBADER3. 

the  novels  of  nearly  every  author  of  note.     I  think  1 
will  keep  on  awhile  longer  with  it. 

I  have,  however,  written  a  story  of  mystery,  based 
on  an  assassination,  that  will  appear  some  time,  I  do 
not  know  when.  If  I  rival  the  masters  in  that  line  I 
shall  certainly  take  the  hint. 

In  the  meantime  you  will  find  sex  the  ruling  motif 
in  "  LoVe  Gone  Astray,"  and  I  hope  it  will  not  prove 
uninteresting. 

ALBERT  ROSS. 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  1896. 


INTRODUCTION. 


PLOT   FOR   A   NOVEL. 

M  IF  a  young  girl  *  goes  astray  ' "  began  my 

friend. 

"  Weir  ?"  said  I. 

"  And  if  some  man,  knowing  that  fact,  himself  be- 
ing innocent  of  her  fall,  marries  her " 

"  Yes." 

"And  in  due  time  she  bears  a  child,  the  result  of 
her  indiscretion " 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  Can  happiness  possibly  result  from  the  union  ?" 

It  was  certainly  a  grave  question.  And  I  said  to 
my  friend,  as  we  sat  at  our  coffee  in  the  breakfast- 
room  of  the  Hole1  Continental  at  Cairo,  that  I  would 
not  like  to  answer  it  without  further  information. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  I  added,  "  men  are  not  apt  to 
covet  marriages  made  on  the  basis  which  you  have 
assumed.  I  should  say  it  would  be  practically  impos- 
sible to  obtain  a  respectable  husband  for  a  girl  who  had 
•committed  such  a  fault,  were  the  consequences  what 
you  intimate." 

Eg 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

My  friend  smiled. 

"Supposing,"  he  said,  "the  man  was  very  poor 
and  the  girl's  father  very  rich  ?" 

I  admitted  that  this  might  alter  the  case  some- 
what ;  people  nowadays  did  almost  anything  for 
money.  If  this  was  the  make-weight  in  the  hypoth- 
etical instance,  I  could  answer  with  considerable  cer- 
tainty that  happiness  would  not  follow  such  a  mar- 
riage. 

"I  can  imagine  that  a  certain  type  of  man  might 
go  through  a  wedding  ceremony  with  such  a  girl,"  I 
said,  "  if  he  was  sufficiently  well  paid  for  it.  Such 
a  fellow  would  hardly  be  above  retaining  the  position 
he  had  taken,  either,  if  his  continued  compensation 
depended  thereon.  But  the  infant,  when  it  was  born, 
would  be  a  standing  reminder  of  his  shame,  as  well 
as  hers.  Unless  the  secret  was  jealously  guarded, 
the  public  would  know  of  what  had  transpired,  and 
its  seal  of  disapproval  would  make  the  conditions 
well  nigh  unbearable." 

My  friend  bowed. 

"  I  refer  to  a  case  where  the  secret  was  kept  in  a 
very  narrow  circle,"  he  replied. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  know,  personally* 
of  a  couple  married  in  the  way  you  suggest  ?" 

"  Precisely." 

"  What  was  the  result  ?" 

"  If  you  have  time  to  listen  I  will  give  you  the  en- 
tire story,"  he  said.  "  It  may  form  the  basis  of  a 
future  novel,  and  prove  quite  as  interesting  as  one  of 
your  own  invention." 

I  had  the  time  to  listen,  of  course.  One  has  time 
for  anything  and  everything  agreeable  in  Cairo.  The 


IKTKODUCTIOH.  11 

best  place  to  hear  the  tale  was  in  a  victoria,  and  with 
my  good  dragoman,  Hassan  Mohammed,  on  the  box 
with  the  coachman,  we  set  out  at  once  on  a  drive  to 
the  Pyramids.  As  the  recital  was  only  half  through 
when  we  reached  the  Mena  House,  we  postponed  the 
remainder  while  we  stopped  there  for  an  excellent 
lunch.  On  the  way  back  to  Cairo  my  friend  contin- 
ued and  finished  the  story. 

It  was  indeed  quite  suitable  for  use,  and  I  told  my 
friend,  with  thanks,  that  I  should  at  once  put  it  in 
shape  for  my  readers.  I  said  I  should  make  a  few 
alterations  in  it,  for  the  sake  of  dramatic  interest,  but 
in  the  main  would  follow  the  lines  he  had  given  me. 

It  would  spoil  my  romance  were  I  to  answer  on 
this  page  the  question  that  must  be  uppermost  in 
the  reader's  mind.  I  have  already  revealed  almost 
too  much  of  the  plot.  For  the  rest  I  must  refer  yout 
without  more  ado,  to  the  chapters  that  follow. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN    A    VBNETIAN   GONDOLA. 

IT  was  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  the  Vene- 
tian gondolier  responded  sleepily  to  the  call  of  the 
young  American  on  the  Piazzetta.  The  boatman 
rowed  leisurely  to  the  bank,  for  the  gentry  to  which 
he  belongs  does  not  easily  get  excited,  and  helped 
his  fare  into  the  gondola  with  a  grace  inherited 
from  generations  of  polite  ancestors. 

"Where?"  he  asked,  in  his  Italian  patois ;  and  the 
young  man,  who  hardly  knew  a  word  of  the 
language,  had  no  difficulty  in  divining  the  meaning 
of  the  question. 

"Anywhere,"  he  answered,  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand,  as  easily  understood  as  the  term  used  by  the 
other. 

He  wanted  an  early  row  among  the  oddities 
of  Venice,  and  as  he  had  been  in  the  Silent  City 


14  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

but  a  short  time,  one  direction  was  as  agreeable  to 
him  as  another. 

The  gondolier  took  his  long  oar  and  began  to  pro- 
pel his  craft  by  those  strange,  sweeping  motions  that 
so  interest  and  puzzle  one  unused  to  this  style  of 
rowing.  Standing  well  back  toward  the  stern,  he 
sent  the  beautiful  creature  of  which  he  seemed  a  part 
as  gracefully  through  the  water  as  any  swan. 

He  rowed  slowly,  both  from  preference  and  be- 
cause it  was  evident  that  haste  was  not  desired  by  his 
passenger.  He  rowed  picturesquely,  because  there 
is  no  other  mode  known  to  the  gondolier  of  Venice, 
from  the  uniformed  attendant  of  a  nabob  to  the 
humblest  freight  boatman  who  brings  a  load  of  fire- 
wood from  the  mainland  or  of  vegetables  from  the 
islands  where  the  market  gardens  are  located. 

For  a  while  the  course  of  the  boat  lay  along  the 
Grand  Canal.  It  passed  under  the  venerable  Rialto, 
as  solid  as  London  Bridge,  in  effect  one  massive 
stone,  that  will  be  intact,  as  far  as  human  judgment 
can  foresee,  until  the  earth  is  in  its  final  throes.  On 
either  side  of  the  Canal  long  lines  of  palaces  shone 
in  the  early  light,  their  occupants,  for  the  most  part, 
yet  invisible. 

Venice  was  still  asleep.  Lovely  as  she  is  at  all 
times,  this  stately  creature  is  never  so  pretty  as  when 
in  repose.  A  glide  along  her  watery  streets  just  be- 
fore sunrise  is  like  moving  silently  through  a  garden 
where  nymphs  lie  in  slumber. 

In  Venice  there  is  no  wheeled  carriage  of  any  de- 
scription. Not  a  horse,  mule,  ox,  goat,  sheep,  puts 
his  foot  upon  her  pavements.  The  station  at  which 
you  arrive  by  train  is  at  an  extreme  corner  of  the 


IN    A   VENETIAN   GONDOLA.  15 

city,  and  even  its  necessary  noise  is  tempered  by  the 
surroundings.  The  only  vehicles  of  passenger  or 
goods  service  are  the  boats,  which  make  hardly  more 
disturbance  for  the  ear  than  a  fish  passing  over  the 
same  route. 

Every  sound — and  when  the  city  awakes  she  is 
capable  of  many  sounds — proceeds  from  the  voices 
of  individuals,  or  the  whirr  of  the  sacred  doves  that 
are  fed  by  thousands  at  all  hours  in  the  Piazza  of 
St.  Mark.  The  seller  of  various  wares  seems  to  feel 
that  it  is  incumbent  upon  him  to  mock  the  echoes  of 
the  winding  labyrinths  over  which  one  may  stroll 
dryshod. 

The  boatmen  themselves,  when  there  is  a  possible 
occasion,-  cry  out  to  each  other  in  weird  tones,  espe- 
cially at  narrow  intersections  of  the  side  canals,  to 
prevent  collision  with  craft  approaching  silently 
from  beyond  the  stone  and  brick  of  a  corner.  Be- 
sides, in  protest  of  the  natural  stillness  of  their  city, 
they  quarrel  for  hours  in  front  of  the  principal  ho- 
tels, with  as  much  effect  as  a  parcel  of  highly-plumed 
birds  in  an  African  forest.  But  for  these  things 
Venice  would  be  as  quiet  as  the  schoolroom  in  which 
the  proverbial  pin  is  about  to  drop,  or  as  a  graveyard 
in  a  superstitious  neighborhood. 

At  the  morning  hour  when  young  Gilbert  Gray 
rode  in  his  gondola  under  the  fcialto  these  noises 
had  only  faintly  begun,  and  the  delight  he  felt  in  his 
excursion  was  correspondingly  great. 

He  wanted  the  effect  of  solitude.  With  the  gon- 
dolier hidden  from  sight  by  his  rearward  position, 
the  boat  seemed  propelled  by  a  sail  or  the  force  of  a 
tide.  Until  men  have  mastered  the  currents  of  the 


16  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAT 

upper  air,  and  can  voyage  whither  they  please  in  the 
ether,  there  will  be  no  effect  so  nearly  like  it  as  to 
float  on  the  bosom  of  a  Venetian  canal. 

The  drift  adown  the  current  of  a  river  does  not 
give  the  same  impression,  for  there  is  a  tiresome  row 
in  prospect  before  the  starting  point  can  be  regained. 
No  boat  propelled  by  machinery,  even  the  tidy  little 
naptha  launch,  equals  it,  for  the  noise  of  the  wheels 
cannot  entirely  be  deadened  and  the  smell  of  the 
chemicals  waft  themselves  in  spite  of  all  precaution 
to  the  nostrils.  The  trimmest  yacht  may  give  more 
excitement  as  she  skims  bird-like  across  the  waters 
of  the  sea,  but  she  does  not  lull  the  senses  and  trans- 
port the  dreamer  into  another  world,  from  which  he 
may  return  at  pleasure. 

Only  the  gondola  does  this. 

Why  did  Gilbert  Gray  wish  for  solitude  ?  He  was 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  in  the  possession  of  perfect 
health.  Most  youths  like  him  would  have  irked  the 
stillness  of  the  canals  and  welcomed  joyfully  the  first 
signs  of  that  noisier  awakening  that  would  come 
with  the  sunrise. 

Gilbert  was  sentimental.  The  strangeness  of  the 
situation  gave  him  a  real  delight.  He  lay  back  in 
the  comfortable  seat,  stretched  his  legs  and  gave 
himself  up  to  reverie.  His  brain  dwelt  on  the  poetic 
quality  of  this  peculiar  place.  Its  history,  of  which 
he  had  read  much,  passed  slowly  through  his  mind. 
He  wished  he  had  lived  some  centuries  earlier  to 
have  seen  these  islands  when  the  argosies  of  the 
whole  world  came  there  with  treasures  of  distant 
lands,  and  when  St.  Mark's  environs  held  a  gorgeous 
pageant  from  one  year's  end  to  another's. 


IN    A    VENETIAN    GONDOLA.  17 

To  enjoy  Venice  thoroughly  one  must  precipitate 
himself  into  that  dead  and  buried  past,  for  to-day 
only  the  shadow  of  the  mighty  substance  is  left. 

The  young  man  had  watched  the  litter  of  lazzaroni 
leaning  from  stately  balconies.  He  saw  that  decay 
had  fastened  upon  the  vitals  of  this  glorious  creature, 
on  whose  breast  he  had  been  permitted,  too  late,  to 
rest  his  head.  To  appreciate  Venice  he  must  forget 
the  present. 

The  morning  hour,  just  before  the  sun  comes  out 
of  the  Adriatic,  is  the  best  time  for  this. 

The  Grand  Canal  is  some  hundreds  of  feet  in  width 
during  the  major  part  of  its  course.  The  intersect- 
ing "streets"  are  seldom  more  than  twenty.  When 
an  hour  had  passed,  and  the  sun  was  peeping  over 
the  rosy  tints  of  the  east,  the  passenger  lifted  a  hand 
without  turning  in  his  seat  and  intimated  that  he 
would  vary  his  course  by  entering  one  of  the  side 
streams.  He  nodded,  still  without  turning,  when  the 
boatman  said  "  Piccola  ?"  in  an  interrogative  tone. 
They  understood  each  other  very  well,  and  with  a 
sweep  of  the  long  oar,  that  bore  no  apparent  relation 
to  the  effect  it  gave,  the  Italian  turned  his  prow  in 
the  direction  indicated,  and  with  another  sent  his 
barque  between  the  high  ranges  of  buildings  that 
bordered  the  "  rio." 

The  light  encroaching  on  the  outer  world  had  lit- 
tle effect,  as  yet,  on  these  secluded  passages.  The 
undisturbed  quality  of  the  voyage  was,  if  anything, 
improved  by  the  change.  So  little  prospect  was 
there  of  another  gondola  approaching  from  the  oppo- 
site direction  that  Gilbert's  boatman  forgot  to  utter 
his  usual  cry  at  the  doubtful  corners. 


18  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

The  intersecting  canals,  that  seemed  to  offer  a 
succession  of  impossible  turns  for  the  long  craft, 
proved  equal  to  its  passage  in  the  skillful  manipula- 
tion of  the  rower,  whose  art  was  little  less  than  mar- 
velous. He  found  plenty  of  room  where  none  was 
visible,  not  even  grazing  the  walls  with  either  end  of 
his  boat,  and  all  without  the  least  apparent  effort. 

If  anything  was  needed  to  make  the  young  Ameri- 
can certain  he  had  passed  from  earth  to  Fairyland 
the  magic  perfection  of  these  difficult  passages  suf- 
ficed. Under  numerous  little  arched  bridges  he 
floated,  and  when  at  last  he  emerged  upon  the 
Grand  Canal  he  uttered  the  word  he  had  heard — 
"  Piccola," — and  was  immediately  rowed  again  into  a 
succession  of  the  minor  ones. 

Finally  the  march  of  the  early  morning  began  to 
have  its  effect  in  various  ways.  Through  windows 
women  could  be  seen  preparing  breakfasts.  Other 
gondoliers  came,  rowing  sleepily  toward  the  centres 
from  which  passengers  might  be  expected.  Market 
boats,  loaded  high  with  the  brightest  tomatoes,  cab- 
bages, potatoes  and  fruit  appeared.  Young  people 
were  seen,  as  the  public  squares  were  passed,  going 
to  labor.  Beggars  thought  it  not  too  early  to  ply 
their  trade — the  most  flourishing  and  perhaps  the 
most  lucrative  in  Venice.  Shutters  were  taken  down 
from  dingy  shops,  and  goods  arranged  to  beguile  the 
expected  customer.  Services  in  the  churches,  of 
which  the  city  boasts  more  than  a  hundred,  attracted 
those  who  had  the  time  and  inclination  for  them. 

The  city  was  awakening.  Gilbert  Gray's  beauti- 
ful dream  was  being  spoiled.  He  roused  himself 
with  impatience,  for  he  would  have  preferred  that 


m   A   VENETIAN   GONDOLA.  19 

the  reverie  had  gone  on  for  some  hours  longer.  The 
morning  had  been  slightly  chilly,  for  the  date  was 
late  in  October,  but  the  warmly  dressed  youth  had 
experienced  no  discomfort.  The  mercury  was  now 
mounting,  slowly  but  surely,  and  the  less  fortunate 
Venetians,  who  had  no  means  to  purchase  fuel,  were 
crawling  out  into  the  sunshine  like  a  species  of  lizard. 
There  were  months  before  them  of  colder  nights 
than  these,  and  they  had  not  yet  begun  to  grumble. 
The  very  poor  are  your  true  fatalists,  and  the  more 
ignorant  of  these  people  knew,  though  they  might 
not  have  been  able  to  put  it  into  words,  that  "  what 
must  be  must  be." 

Somewhat  sulkily  Gray  signaled  to  his  boatman 
that  he  would  return  to  the  waters  of  the  Grand 
Canal.  If  Venice  was  indeed  awake,  she  would  look 
better,  he  thought,  from  that  point.  The  main 
street  of  the  city  repaid  him  for  the  change,  in  the 
glowing  colors  reflected  from  her  palace  walls,  as  the 
glints  of  the  sun  came  in  contact  with  the  shades 
that  art  and  time  have  combined  to  render  lovely. 

Other  foreigners  were  out  now,  as  well  as  himself, 
taking  what  they  thought  a  very  early  view  of  the 
city.  He  marked  the  various  types  of  tourists  and 
looked  rather  longer  than  was  quite  polite  at  a  party 
of  young  girls,  chaperoned  by  a  sour-faced  and  el- 
derly female.  That  they  were  English  he  made  sure 
by  the  glowing  color  of  their  cheeks,  as  well  as  by 
the  peculiar  fashion  of  their  hair  and  the  demureness 
of  their  demeanor. 

Then  his  attention  was  attracted  by  an  Italian 
girl,  hardly  more  than  fifteen  years  of  age,  who 
wielded  the  forward  oar  in  a  boat  that  transported 


20  LOVE   GONE  ASTRAY. 

baskets  of  coal  from  one  of  the  steamers  to  the 
shore.  The  girl  was  strikingly  pretty,  with  the  dark 
hair  and  eyes  of  her  race  ;  and  there  was  a  freedom 
in  the  way  she  moved  her  arms  that  would  have 
given  pleasure  to  a  painter.  She  apparently  boasted 
but  one  garment,  a  calico  printed  gown  that  came 
only  to  her  knees  and  was  loosely  fastened  at  the 
breast.  The  lower  portion  of  her  brown  legs  was  en- 
tirely uncovered  and  the  skirt  blew  in  perfect  free- 
dom about  the  upper  parts.  She  wore  no  hat,  and 
her  hair  hung  in  a  careless  braid  to  the  level  of  her 
waist. 

The  girl  returned  Gilbert's  interested  look,  finding 
him  quite  as  well  worth  noting  as  he  found  her,  and 
they  were  apparently  trying  to  decide  which  should 
outstare  the  other  when  a  short,  crisp  word  from  the 
master  of  her  boat  called  her  attention  to  her  work. 
With  a  farewell  glance  that  expressed  regret  as 
plainly  as  any  formed  sentence,  the  child  bent  her 
young  energies  with  redoubled  strength  to  the  oar 
and  did  not  look  again  in  Gray's  direction. 

"  How  pretty  these  Italian  girls  always  are  !"  he 
murmured  to  himself.  "  And  why  is  it  that  they 
grow  so  soon  into  ugly,  wrinkled,  sallow-faced  old 
hags?  Does  Nature  punish  them  for  having  taken 
more  than  their  share  in  infancy  ?  To  think  this 
sprite  will  look,  thirty  years  from  now,  like  that  crone 
who  waits  on  the  riva,  ready  to  swindle  a  soldo  from 
me  if  I  carry  out  my  purpose  of  landing  on  her 
piratical  territory  !" 

At  the  risk  of  paying  the  tribute,  however,  the 
American  motioned  to  his  gondolier  that  he  wished 
to  reach  the  shore,  and  a  few  moments  later  he  stood 


IN   A   VENETIAN   GONDOLA.  21 

upon  the  marble  steps  that  face  the  Pillars.  After 
settling  in  a  more  than  liberal  way  with  the  boatman, 
and  seeing  the  unfailing  shrug  of  dissatisfaction  that 
cabbies  of  all  nations  are  wont  to  use,  no  matter 
what  they  are  paid,  he  put  a  silver  piece  of  small 
value  into  the  woman's  outstretched  hand  and 
turned  to  see  if  the  pretty  child  in  the  coal  boat  had 
disappeared  from  view.  There  she  was,  pushing 
with  all  her  strength  at  her  oar,  her  face  turned  from 
him,  the  print  gown  blowing  about  her  shapely  legs, 
having  forgotten  already,  no  doubt,  that  such  a 
young  man  as  he  existed. 

Slightly  piqued  he  took  a  few  steps  up  the  walk, 
turned  to  look  at  her  again  and  then  dismissed  her 
from  his  mind.  Though  there  was  at  least  five  years 
differen.ee  in  their  ages,  it  would  have  been  a  pleas- 
ure had  he  found  her  stealing  a  covert  glance  in  his 
direction.  Such  are  the  sentiments  of  a  young  fellow 
of  twenty,  more  often  than  one  might  think,  and 
there  was  nothing  in  this  hero  of  ours  to  take  him 
out  of  the  common  in  this  particular. 

The  three  hours  that  he  had  been  out  of  bed,  made 
Gray  quite  ready  for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  even 
though  so  much  of  the  time  had  been  spent  in  dream- 
ing. As  he  walked  briskly  toward  the  Piazza,  he 
saw  that  a  pall  of  murky  clouds  hung  over  the  city, 
broken  here  and  there  by  the  rising  sun,  as  if  the  ele- 
ments were  masquerading  in  clothes  for  which  they 
had  no  use. 

All  at  once  young  Gray's  eyes  encountered  an  ob- 
ject that  took  his  attention  from  the  firmament  and 
brought  it  solidly  to  the  earth  at  his  feet.  Lying  at 
the  base  of  the  column  that  bears  upon  its  summit 


22  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAT. 

the  bearded  lion  of  St.  Mark,  was  a  man  of  but  little 
more  than  his  own  age,  dressed  in  garments  that 
showed  him  to  be  no  native  of  Venice,  and  that  also 
indicated  the  unlikelihood  of  his  being  in  the  habit 
of  selecting  the  pavement  for  his  bed.  The  figure 
was  in  a  very  deep  slumber,  and  the  face  so  covered 
by  one  of  the  arms,  the  other  being  used  as  a  head- 
rest, that  the  features  could  not  be  distinguished. 

Gilbert  paused  and  gazed  for  some  minutes  at  the 
recumbent  form,  not  willing  to  leave  it  there,  and 
yet  uncertain  whether  he  had  either  the  right  or  the 
inclination  to  disturb  a  sleep  that,  whatever  else 
might  be  said  of  it,  was  apparently  refreshing  and 
grateful  to  its  owner. 

Several  passers  paused  to  join  the  onlooker,  and 
then  went  their  ways  with  a  laugh.  A  cloud  of 
pigeons  flew  over  from  the  Piazza  and  alighted 
near  him,  in  expectation  of  a  handful  of  corn,  to  be 
had  of  itinerant  venders  at  three  cents  a  package. 
Half  absently  Gray  bought  some  grain  and  took  up 
the  time  in  scattering  it  on  the  ground.  It  gave  him 
an  excuse  for  staying  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  story  of  the  Samaritan  came  into  his  head,  and 
he  was  neither  a  priest  nor  a  Levite.  If  the  man  on 
the  stones  needed  any  little  help  he  would  be  glad 
to  give  it  to  him.  It  was  not  likely  he  had  selected 
that  hard  bed  from  choice.  Still  Gilbert  had  a  hesi- 
tation about  interfering  with  the  business  of  other 
people.  Perhaps  he  would  be  not  only  unthanked 
but  insulted  if  he  took  this  sleeper  by  the  arm  and 
shook  him  into  wakefulness. 

An  idea  occurred  as  the  outgrowth  of  what  he  was 
doing.  He  could  let  the  pigeons  awake  the  slum- 


IN    A    VENETIAN    GONDOLA.  23 

berer,  and  it  would  then  be  easy  to  see  whether  any- 
thing further  was  advisable. 

Scattering  the  maize  slowly,  Gray  saw  the  birds 
devour  it  as  hungrily  as  if  they  and  their  ancestors 
had  not  been  fed  hourly  for  more  than  a  thousand 
years  within  a  hundred  feet  of  that  spot.  Stray 
grains  that  he  threw  lit  upon  the  coat  and  then  upon 
the  hat  of  the  sleeper,  bringing  the  pigeons  without 
delay  to  the  same  localities,  with  the  fearlessness 
that  centuries  have  bred  in  these  pets  of  Venice. 

Presently  a  dozen  of  the  feathered  things  were 
perched  upon  the  figure  of  the  prostrate  man,  pecking 
greedily  for  every  grain  that  could  be  found  ;  and 
still  he  slept  on.  It  was  only  when  one  of  the  birds 
flying  from  above,  lit  on  the  rim  of  the  soft  hat,  and 
came  with  a  great  flapping  of  wings  into  his  very 
face,  that  the  sleeper  turned  and  made  an  involun- 
tary motion  to  brush  away  the  disturber.  The  re- 
moval of  the  protecting  arm  allowed  the  sunlight  to 
fall  upon  his  eyelids,  and  the  awakening  that  had 
taken  so  long  was  accomplished. 

"  A-h-h  !"  he  muttered,  rousing  himself  into  a 
sitting  posture,  and  stretching  his  stiff  limbs. 

After  making  which  remark  he  sat  up,  and  with 
his  back  against  the  column  of  St.  Mark,  looked 
around. 

The  Palace  of  the  Doges,  the  Church  of  San 
Marco,  and  the  rows  of  shops  opposite,  impressed 
themselves  upon  his  vision.  Then  the  doves,  and 
last  of  all,  young  Mr.  Gray. 

"  A-h-h  !"  he  said  again. 

He  reached  his  hand  toward  a  pocket  of  his  vest, 
and  finding  neither  watch  nor  chain  there  he  said 


24  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

"  Ah  !**  for  the  third  time  and  began  to  get  upon  his 
feet. 

"What  time  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  yawning,  and  Gray, 
delighted  that  the  conversation  had  thus  begun, 
responded  that  it  was  between  seven  and  eight 
o'clock. 

The  man  spoke  English,  and  was  apparently  a 
native  of  the  British  Isles. 

"  Eight  o'clock  !"  he  replied,  incredulously. 

"  Why,  it  was  after  ten  when "  He  paused  and 

contracted  his  eyebrows.  "  Confound  it !  I  believe 
I've  slept  here  all  night  !" 

This  looked  so  probable  that  the  person  to  whom 
it  was  addressed  only  answered  witli  a  smiling  nod. 
He  had  "  sized  up  "  the  sleeper  rapidly  during  the 
last  minute.  The  movement  toward  the  watch  that 
had  disappeared  told  its  own  story.  Hard  luck  of 
some  kind  had  caused  the  owner  of  the  timepiece  to 
part  with  it. 

The  clothes  of  the  sleeper  were  of  good  cut,  and 
they  had  not  suffered  seriously  from  contact  with  a 
dry  and  reasonably  clean  pavement.  He  brushed 
off  the  dust  with  care  and  then  stretched  himself 
again. 

"If  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  in  a  stranger,"  said 
Gray,  "  I  was  just  going  to  get  some  coffee  ;  would 
you  like  to  accompany  me  ?'' 

The  Englishman  cast  a  quick  look  of  suspicion  at 
the  speaker,  and  then  tried  to  conceal  his  action. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  a  curiosity  to  you,"  said  he 
bluntly,  "and  such  I  must,  at  least  for  the  present, 
remain.  It  would  be  folly  to  pretend  that  I  selected 
this  place  for  my  nap  on  account  of  its  comfort.  It 


IN    A    VRNETIAN   GONDOLA.  25 

was  merely  a  matter  of  eligibility.  I  did  not  have  a 
centessimo  in  my  pocket.  I  could  not  pawn  my 
watch  or  chain,  or  diamond  pin,  or  rings,  because  I 
had  none.  My  very  linen  is  held  as  security  for  rent 
I  cannot  pay.  With  these  statements  I  leave  you  to 
say  whether  you  still  wish  my  company,  or  whether 
you  would  rather  hand  me  a  lira,  as  yon  would  to 
any  other  mendicant,  and  let  me  go." 

All  the  generosity  in  Gilbert  Gray's  heart  forbade 
the  acceptance  of  the  latter  proposition.  The  man 
had  told  him  nothing  but  what  he  already  suspected. 
He  replied  quick'y  that  his  invitation  still  held  good, 
and  that  he  trusted  all  disagreeable  subjects  would 
be  banished  from  the  slight  refreshment  of  which 
they  were  to  partake. 

"Very  well/'  was  the  reply,  as  they  walked  along 
toward  Florian's.  "  I  will  go  with  pleasure,  all  the 
greater  as  it  is  twenty-four  hours  since  I  tasted 
food." 

To  the  exclamation  which  greeted  this  announce- 
ment the  stranger  added,  "  Oh,  that  is  nothing.  If  I 
were  at  liberty  to  tell  you — let  me  say  only  this  :  I 
have  been  robbed.  My  enemies  have  outwitted  me, 
and  as  you  see  they  have  left  me  in  a  rather  disagree- 
able plight  ;  but  my  courage  is  still  good,  and  when 
my  turn  comes  I  shall  pay  them  back  with  interest." 

"What  may  I  call  you?"  asked  Gilbert,  handing 
his  new  acquaintance  his  card,  as  they  seated  them 
selves  at  one  of  the  tables. 

"  I  shall  have  to  refuse  you  my  true  name  for  the 
present,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am  traveling  incog. 
But,  for  the  purpose  of  conversation,  you  may  call 
me — Mr.  Neiling — Mr.  William  Neiling." 


26  LOVE  GONE   ASTRAY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  STRANGE    MR.    NEILING. 

MR.  WILLIAM  NEILING  shamed  the  pigeons  in  the 
square  by  the  avidity  with  which  he  devoured  the 
light  meal  that  was  soon  before  him.  He  was  finish- 
ing the  second  cup  of  coffee  he  had  poured  from  the 
generous  pot,  and  commencing  on  his  third  roll 
when  an  idea  occurred  to  Mr.  Gray. 

"  Would  you  mind,"  he  said,  "  if  I  ordered  some 
eggs  for  you  along  with  my  own  ?  I  am  not  yet  used 
to  continental  breakfasts  and  find  need  of  something 
rather  more  substantial  between  morning  and  noon." 

Mr.  Neiling  laughed. 

"  I  should  certainly  like  the  eggs,"  he  answered, 
"  and  for  the  sake  of  them  will  pardon  the  disingen- 
uousness  of  your  invitation.  Ask  the  waiter  to  make 
it  three,  if  you  please.  Eating  once  a  day  has  its 
drawbacks,  but  it  certainly  conduces  to  a  healthy  ap- 
petite." 

The  manner  in  which  the  stranger  received  his  new 
friend's  advances  made  it  easy  to  get  on  comfortable 
terms  with  him,  and  the  stiffness  that  had  crept  into 
Gilbert's  manner  rapidly  disappeared. 

"You  are  an  early  riser,  it  seems,"  commented 
Neiling,  when  there  came  a  suitable  point  into  which 
to  throw  the  remark. 

'  I  was  in  a  gondola  at  four  o'clock,"  replied  Gray, 
with  a  blush,  partly  of  pride. 


THE   STRANGE   MB.    NEJUNG.  27 

"  Indeed  !  And  what  did  you  want  at  that  un- 
earthly hour  ?" 

"Only  to  see  Venice  in  her  greatest  quiet." 

And  then  he  went  on,  somewhat  lamely,  to  give 
the  impressions  he  had  formed  before  the  sun  rose, 
and  warming  as  he  proceeded,  detailed  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  that  half-nocturnal  journey. 

It  was  clear  that  this  was  a  chord  to  which  Mr. 
Neiling  could  not  respond.  He  laughed  a  little, 
from  time  to  time,  and  shook  his  head  as  if  to  say  he 
saw  no  pleasure  in  that  kind  of  a  trip  ;  quite  good- 
naturedly,  but  with  no  attempt  to  sacrifice  truth  to 
politeness. 

"  You  are  evidently  a  sentimentalist,"  he  said.  "  I 
suppose  you  read  Byron  and  Shelley,  and  that  sort 
of  thing.'" 

"  I  adore  them  !"  was  the  enthusiastic  reply. 

"  And  do  you  write  verses  yourself  ?"  asked  Neil- 
ing,  quizzically. 

"  No.  It  almost  seems  as  if  I  could,  though.  I 
feel  all  a  poet's  ardor,  without  confidence  enough  to 
express  it.  I  think  there  is  no  place  so  poetic  as 
these  watery  streets,  anywhere  on  the  globe." 

"  Mr.  Neiling  responded  that  he  had  found  the 
streets  of  Venice  very  wet,  and  the  gondola  a  slow 
and  unsatisfactory  vehicle.  Even  when  he  had 
money  in  his  purse  he  said  it  took  an  unconscionable 
time  to  get  anywherein  one  of  those  silly  contrivances. 
When  he  had  not  a  soldo  and  his  course  led  up  and 
down  over  the  flights  of  stairs  called  bridges,  an 
hour's  walk  was  as  tiresome  as  three  in  a  sensible 
English  town. 

<v  But  the  skies  !"  remarked  Gray  with  enthusiasm. 


28  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

**  Have  you  ever  seen  such  beauty  in  the  blending  of 
sea  and  air  as  there  is  at  sunset  ?  I  thought,  before 
I  came  here,  that  the  painters  had  drawn  on  their 
imaginations,  but  they  do  not  depict  half  the  reality. 
And  in  the  evening,  when  the  singing  parties  go  out 
on  the  water,  what  a  soul-stirring  effect  they  produce  ! 
I  had  rather  hear  one  of  these  boatloads  of  vocalists, 
accompanied  by  their  mandolins  and  zithers,  than 
the  best  opera  in  one  of  our  home  theatres,  with  a 
hundred  picked  musicians  in  the  orchestra." 

"Would  you,  really  1"  asked  Mr.  Neiling,  who 
seemed  to  find  the  statement  most  astonishing.  He 
said  he  had  heard  some  of  the  singing,  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  go  nearer. 
As  for  the  sky,  he  had  not  even  noticed  it,  except  to 
speculate  on  the  probability  of  rain. 

"  But  what  do  you  find  worth  seeing  and  hearing 
in  Venice,  then  ?"  demanded  Gray,  pointedly. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "  I 
assure  you  I  did  not  come  here  for  any  of  the  poetic 
reasons  you  mention,  nor  shall  I  remain  a  day  longer 
than  is  necessary.  I  was  lured  to  Venice  by  a  busi- 
ness affair,  which  has  turned  out,  as  you  may  guess, 
very  badly.  I  must  remain,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  till 
funds  arrive — unless  some  trusting  individual  wants 
to  let  me  have  a  hundred  francs  with  which  to  reach 
Rome." 

The  suggestion  was  sufficiently  pointed,  and  Gray 
was  glad  it  had  been  readied  in  that  direct  manner. 
He  wanted  to  aid  this  distressed  young  gentleman, 
and  he  had  not  known  how  to  press  a  loan  upon  him 
without  danger  of  giving  offense.  When  he  heard 
the  sum  of  one  hundred  francs  mentioned,  he  bright- 


THE    8TRA.NGE   MB.    NEILIWG.  29 

ened  immediately  and  said  it  would  please  him  to 
lend  the  amount  himself,  or  twice  as  much,  if  equally 
agreeable. 

"  We  shall  not  quarrel  even  over  the  latter  propo- 
sition," smiled  Neiling.  "  If  you  can  spare  the  money 
it  is  liable  to  come  in  conveniently  before  I  hear  from 
my  people.  To  get  to  Rome  to-morrow  will  be  of 
great  value  to  the  business  I  have  in  hand,  and  a  few 
francs  extra  in  the  pocket  is  not  a  bad  thing  when 
one  is  hundreds  of  miles  from  his  natural  base  of 
supplies." 

Mr.  Gray  promptly  placed  two  notes  for  a  hun- 
dred francs — or  rather  lire — each  on  the  table,  and 
suggested  that  as  a  train  started  toward  Rome  within 
an  hour,  he  would  not  detain  his  acquaintance  over 
any  formalities. 

"  But,"  laughed  Neiling,  folding  up  the  notes,  "  I 
can't  go  till  to-morrow,  for  a  very  good  reason.  All 
my  linen  requires  laundering,  and  even  the  quick 
laundries  will  need  twenty-four  hours'  time.  To  go 
to  Rome  witli  soiled  collars  and  cuffs  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  We  are  such  slaves  to  these  foolish  cus- 
toms !  No  gentleman  is  strong  enough  to  brave  the 
edict  which  ordains  that  he  must  wear  a  starched 
shirt.  I  will  leave  you,  as  you  suggest,  but  only  for 
the  sake  of  putting  my  underclothing  in  communi- 
cation with  a  laundress.  Being  now  able  to  satisfy 
the  insatiate  claims  of  my  landlord,  I  shall  be  allowed, 
I  presume,  to  remain  in  my  room  to-night,  instead 
of  resting  at  the  foot  of  St.  Mark's  statue.  And  to- 
morrow, in  all  the  glory  of  a  clean  coiiar  and  pol- 
ished boots  I  will  make  a  descent  upon  Rome,  which 


30  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

I  hope  will  be  as  effective,  if  not  as  terrorizing,  as 
that  of  the  more  ancient  barbarians." 

Gray  was  sorry  to  have  the  important  business 
that  evidently  awaited  Mr.  Neiling,  postponed  so 
long,  but  he  saw  no  way  to  evade  the  points  raised, 
and  after  going  with  him  as  far  as  the  Piazzetta,  he 
bade  him  farewell. 

It  is  certainly  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive. 
Mr.  Gray  felt  all  the  happiness  of  one  who  has  re- 
lieved distress  at  no  real  cost  to  his  own  comfort. 
It  was  as  easy  for  him  to  lend  those  two  hundred  lire, 
as  to  feed  the  pigeons  in  the  Piazza,  with  the  little 
packages  of  corn  that  cost  three  cents,  American 
money,  each.  And  the  result  was  so  pleasant  !  He 
wondered,  as  he  strolled  back  to  his  hotel  on  the 
Grand  Canal,  why  such  a  fuss  was  made  over  char- 
ity, and  why  the  least  undeserved  suffering  was 
allowed  to  exist. 

That  evening  he  walked  for  some  time  in  the 
Piazza.  The  arcaded  marble  palaces  that  form 
three  sides  of  the  square  were  filled  with  a  brilliant 
throng,  moving  to  and  fro,  or  sitting  in  front  of  the 
restaurants  attending  to  the  wants  of  the  inner  man. 
From  the  coffee  rooms  bright  faces  beamed  upon  the 
spectacle.  Over  St.  Mark's  Church  the  remnant  of  a 
broken  moon  hung  in  glory  in  the  deep  azure,  sur- 
rounded by  a  queenly  train  of  stars,  faintly  distin- 
guishable. To  the  right  the  Palace  of  Doges,  eter- 
nally beautiful  in  its  unparalleled  grace,  took  on  the 
tints  of  the  numerous  lights  ;  while  the  giant  Cam- 
panile, always  a  blot  upon  tjie  symmetry  of  the  sur- 
roundings, rose  coarse  and  powerful,  to  dwarf  all 
other  structures  near. 


THE    STRANGE   MB.    NEILING.  31 

A  hundred  gondolas  were  moored  beyond  the 
Pillars,  each  one  casting  a  shadow  as  black  as  itself 
upon  the  ineffable  blue  on  which  it  rode.  Throngs 
of  strollers  passed,  wearing  the  variegated  costumes 
one  always  finds  in  this  minor  gateway  of  the  East. 

No  one  was  still,  for  a  moment.  Out  of  the  Mer- 
ceria  the  crowds  came  and  into  it  other  crowds  re- 
turned. Movement,  movement !  It  was  all  so 
adapted  to  time  and  place  !  A  touch  more  of  light 
would  have  ruined  everything.  Gilbert  Gray  knew 
that  he  stood  in  the  human  centre  of  all  that's 
rythmic  to  the  ear  and  eye. 

When  the  crowd  finally  dispersed,  Gray  did  not 
find  himself  inclined  to  go  indoors.  He  went  to 
look  at  the  Bay  again,  and  finally  engaged  a  gondo- 
lier to  row  him  out  toward  the  Lagoon. 

As  the  boatman  was  engaged  by  the  hour  it  made 
no  difference  to  him  that  his  passenger  had  no  par- 
ticular destination.  Indeed,  it  was  rather  pleasing  to 
find  in  the  course  of  time  that  the  American  was 
fast  asleep  on  the  comfortable  seat.  The  last  thing 
Gilbert  had  seen  was  the  beautiful  city  under  the 
deep  blue  of  a  sky  lit  by  the  stars  alone,  the 
broken  moon  having  gone  to  rest  below  the  horizon. 
When  the  beauty  of  morning  came  again  he  experi- 
enced anew  the  pleasure  of  finding  Venice  asleep 
and  witnessing  her  awakening. 

A  little  earlier  than  on  the  previous  day  he  dis- 
missed his  gondola  and  went  to  Florian's  for  his 
coffee.  Something  to  his  surprise  he  found  his 
English  friend  already  there,  partaking  of  as  sub- 
stantial a  meal  as  the  house  could  furnish. 

"I  found   I  could  catch  the  first  train,"  explained 


32  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

Neiling,  who  looked  far  less  like  a  man  who  had  had 
a  good  night's  sleep  than  the  other.  "  So  I'm  off. 
By-the-way,"  he  added,  with  a  kind  of  arrogance 
in  his  manner,  "  I  had  the  luck  to  get  part  of  my 
money  back,  and  you  can  have  those  two  hundred 
lire  if  you  want  them." 

He  took  out  a  substantial  fistful  of  paper  bills  as 
he  spoke,  and  held  them  up  to  view.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  there  were  several  thousand  francs  in  the 
pile,  and  Gray  stared  very  hard  in  his  surprise. 

"  Two  hundred  lire  doesn't  look  much  in  such 
company  as  that,  does  it  ?"  said  Neiling,  almost 
fiercely.  If  I  had  had  this  yesterday  I  wouldn't 
have  asked  a  crust  of  bread  from  a  stranger, 
would  I  ?" 

He  crushed  the  mass  of  paper  into  one  of  his 
pockets  as  he  spoke,  and  swallowed  the  remaining 
coffee  in  his  cup  at  a  draft. 

"  I  told  you  I  had  been  robbed,"  added  the  Eng- 
lishman, wiping  his  mouth  on  his  napkin  with  a 
brusque  movement.  "  Well,  last  night,  after  I  left 
you,  I  got  on  the  track  of  the  robbers.  This,"  tap- 
ping his  pocket,  "  is  the  result.  When  I  get  at  them 
again  there  will  be  a  still  better  story  to  tell  !" 

Gray  gazed  at  the  speaker  helplessly. 

"  But  I  don't  understand  why  you  should  leave 
Venice,  now,"  he  said.  "  You  ought  to  stay,  I 
should  think,  and  fight  them  here.  If  you  know 
where  they  are,  the  police  could  help  you.  How 
can  you  do  anything  by  going  to  Rome  ?" 

A  silent  laugh  played  around  the  Englishman's 
mouth. 

"  They  have  affiliations  in   Rome,    too,"    said    he. 


"I   COULD   LEND  YOU  FIFTY   THOUSAND.*5"  33 

*'  And  in  Florence.  And  in  Naples*  And  in  every 
large  city  of  Europe." 

He  gathered  up  a  strap  that  held  a  handbag,  and 
rested  the  weight  on  one  shoulder,  prepared  to  start 
toward  the  station. 

"Your — watch — and — and  chain,"  stammered  Gray. 
"  Have  you  recovered  them,  too?" 

"  I  know  where  they  are  !"  replied  Neiling,  with 
another  of  his  strange  smiles.  "  But  I  must  take  one 
of  those  cursed  gondolas  and  be  off.  Good-bye." 

The  Englishman  disappeared  with  this  abrupt  sal- 
utation ;  and  it  was  half  an  hour  later  when  it 
occurred  to  young  Mr.  Gray  that  the  loan  of  two 
hundred  lire  had  not  been  returned,  and  that  neither 
he  nor  Neiling  possessed  the  other's  postoffice  ad- 
dress. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"I  COULD  LEND   YOU   FIFTY  THOUSAND.** 

THE  reader  must  have  come  to  the  conclusion  by 
this  time  that  Mr.  William  Neiling  was  a  very  pecu- 
liar gentleman,  and  the  author  does  not  indite  this 
paragraph  for  the  purpose  of  disputing  that  fact. 
An  English  solicitor,  named  Darius  Yates,  who  was 
spending  a  brief  vacation  at  the  Grand  Hotel  and 
who  made  Gray's  acquaintance  across  the  table,  said 
when  he  heard  the  outline  of  the  story,  that  it  was 


34  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

certainly  remarkable.  Gray  happened  to  tell  it  to 
him  on  the  evening  following  Neiling's  departure, 
and  Yates  showed  the  deepest  interest  in  the  trans- 
action. 

"  Neiling,  did  you  say  ?"  be  repeated,  as  if  trying 
to  remember  where,  if  ever,  he  had  heard  the  name. 

"Yes,"  said  Gray.  "But  I  understood  distinctly 
that  it  was  a  title  assumed  for  the  occasion." 

"  Very  likely,"  nodded  the  solicitor.  "  What  sort 
of  looking  man  was  he,  now  ?" 

"  Rather  thick-set,  broad-shouldered,  not  quite  as 
tall  as  I."  Mr.  Gray  stood  something  l&e  five  feet 
nine  in  his  stockings.  He  was  twenty-five  years  old, 
perhaps,  had  sandy  hair,  with  a  small  moustache, 
and  was  well  dressed." 

To  each  of  these  points  Mr.  Yates  gave  an  answer- 
ing nod.  He  did  not  act,  however,  as  if  they  awoke 
any  memory. 

"The  main  point  is  that  your  two  hundred  francs 
are  gone,"  he  said,  smiling. 

Mr.  Yates  had  a  smile  that  was  most  agreeable. 
It  was  this  smile  that  had  attracted  Gray  to  him 
when  he  first  saw  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  evi- 
dently forgot  to  give  it  to  me,  for  he  had  it  in  his 
hand,  along  with  many  times  as  much,  when  he  was 
hurrying  to  get  his  train.  I  shall  run  across  him 
somewhere,  and  if  I  don't  it  won't  matter.  It  is 
only  forty  dollars  in  American  money,  you  know." 

Mr.  Yates  smiled  again. 

"That's  a  distinctly  American  way  of  putting  it," 
said  he.  "  Now,  to  an  Englishman,  forty  dollars — 
let's  see,  that's  eight  pounds — is  a  matter  for  decided 


"  I  COULD   LEND  YOU   FIFTY   THOUSAND."  35 

interest,  on  all  occasions.  I  have  a  client,  or  I  might 
say  a  friend,  from  your  country,  who  is  spending  a 
good  deal  of  time  in  Europe,  largely  on  account  of 
his  daughter.  I  understand  he  started  life  without  a 
penny,  and  now  he's  as  rich  as  you  please.  The  con- 
tempt with  which  he  talks  of  pounds,  shillings  and 
pence,  is  enough  to  make  one's  blood  run  cold.  I've 
seen  him  hand  a  half-sovereign  to  a  blind  beggar. 
He  told  me  once  he  wouldn't  take  change  from  a 
newsboy,  if  he  had  nothing  to  give  him  for  a  Times 
but  a  five-pound  note  !" 

"Oh,  but  I'm  not  like  that,"  answered  Gilbert. 
"  I  haven't  the  money  to  do  it  with,  in  the  first  place. 
My  father  left  a  very  moderate  fortune,  and  I've 
only  received  enough  for  my  education  and  ordinary 
expenses.  Mr.  Blair — that's  my  guardian — is  doing 
Europe  with  me,  on  account  of  his  health,  which  is 
very  bad.  He's  at  Florence  now,  and  I've  run  over 
here  alone  for  a  few  days  because  the  doctors  don't 
think  it  best  for  him  to  come  to  the  shore.  He's 
quite  a  different  man  from  the  one  you  speak  of.  He 
counts  all  his  pennies,  I  assure  vou,  and  he's  made  a 
handsome  pile  doing  it.  I  don't  think  he'd  at  all 
approve  of  my  lending  forty  dollars  to  a  stranger, 
but  what's  mine's  my  own,  as  the  saying  is." 

From  that  Gilbert  went  on,  in  the  open  way  that 
was  a  part  of  his  nature,  to  talk  about  his  affairs. 
He  had  been  an  orphan  from  his  thirteenth  year. 
Abel  Blair  had  taken  the  place  of  a  parent  to  him, 
and  when  the  doctors  ordered  the  foreign  trip  Gil- 
bert had  been  asked  to  join,  partly  for  his  own  good 
and  partly  because  the  invalid  needed  some  one  with 
him  in  his  feeble  condition.  They  had  been  abroad 


3(5  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

now  for  over  six  months,  and  expected  to  remain  at 
least  another  year,  if  Mr0  Blair  lived  so  long.  The 
best  physicians  had  said  to  Gilbert,  in  confidence,  that 
to  go  back  to  America  would  be  to  hasten  the  end. 
It  was  only  by  a  succession  of  new  scenes  that  Mr. 
Blair  could  hope  to  survive  a  twelvemonth. 

This  they  did  not  intimate  to  the  sick  man,  but 
gave  him  the  hopes  with  which  it  is  thought  right  to 
delude  the  dying.  When  he  was  not  absolutely  on 
his  back  he  thought  he  was  improving,  and  plans  for 
entering  his  counting-room  on  his  return  home  were 
constantly  in  his  mind. 

Mr.  Yates  was  one  of  those  pleasant  fellows  that  a 
good  talker  always  rejoices  to  meet  ;  one  of  those 
men  who  have  acquired  the  admirable  art  of  listen- 
ing to  any  story  as  if  they  found  it  of  all  things  the 
most  delightful.  In  truth,  he  was  glad  to  meet  this 
young  chap  in  a  hotel  where  every  one  was  a  stran- 
ger to  him,  and  to  while  away  an  occasional  hour  by 
listening  to  his  conversation.  When  a  telegram  came 
from  Florence,  a  few  days  later,  asking  Gray  to 
come  there  as  soon  as  was  convenient,  the  solicitor 
parted  from  him  with  real  regret,  and  mutual  hopes 
were  expressed  that  the  chances  of  life  would  throw 
them  together  at  some  future  date. 

Little  did  either  imagine  how  close  would  be  the 
relations  of  which  this  accidental  meeting  was  a 
prelude. 

Mr.  Blair,  who  had  had  an  ill  turn,  was  already  bet- 
ter when  Gilbert  arrived,  and  propped  up  in  his  bed, 
listened  with  eagerness  to  descriptions  of  the  lovely 
"Bride  of  the  Adriatic,"  from  which  his  young 
friend  had  come.  He  smiled  at  the  thought  that  the 


"l   COULD   LEND   YOU   FIFTY   THOUSAND."  37 

following  spring  would  open  these  delectable  visions 
to  his  own  eyes.  As  the  weather  grew  colder  he 
meant  to  go  to  Rome  and  Naples — perhaps  to  Mes- 
sina and  Malta — and  take  in  Venice  when  the  balmy 
airs  of  April  revisited  her  shores. 

"And  by  autumn  I  ought  to  resume  business 
again,"  was  the  way  the  invalid  always  ended  a 
recital  of  his  schemes. 

The  medicine  of  expectation  did  its  work  once 
more,  and  in  a  few  days  Gilbert  could  be  spared 
from  constant  attendance  at  the  bedside.  He  was 
glad  to  breathe  the  outer  air  again,  for  the  confine- 
ment told  on  his  health  and  spirits.  He  climbed  the 
hills  around  Florence,  both  on  foot  and  horseback, 
and  wandered  anew  through  the  country  that  lay 
beyond.  .  He  visited  the  Pitti  and  Ufizzi  palaces,  to 
which  he  had  previously  devoted  some  weeks,  never 
tiring  of  the  art  treasures  there  displayed.  In  short, 
he  drank  in  Florence  with  a  pleasure  second  only  to 
that  with  which  he  had  imbibed  Venice,  and  was 
in  no  haste  for  the  day  when  the  state  of  his  guard- 
ian's health  would  compel  him  to  leave. 

About  the  middle  of  December,  however,  a 
change  to  Rome  was  decided  upon,  and  Mr.  Blair, 
now  quite  able  to  walk  about,  was  full  of  expectancy 
over  the  sights  that  were  soon  to  be  his.  There  is 
something  in  the  very  name  of  that  great  Capital 
which  affects  most  travellers,  whether  their  chief 
interest  centres  in  ancient  or  modern  splendors. 

After  arriving  Mr.  Blair  took  his  daily  ride  to 
objects  of  interest  and  astonished  his  young  friend 
at  the  strength  and  endurance  he  displayed.  Gilbert 
began  to  think  the  idea  of  a  full  recovery  might  not 


38  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

be  a  fiction,  after  all ;  but  he  cautioned  the  sick  man 
against  too  great  exertion,  and  succeeded  in  keeping 
him  within  reasonable  bounds. 

"  I  feel  able  to  walk  a  mile,"  was  the  expression 
with  which  the  merchant  alighted  from  his  carriage 
on  each  return  to  his  hotel,  after  a  stroll  through  the 
churches  and  museums. 

In  the  evening,  being  wholly  free,  Mr.  Gray  used  to 
wander  out  among  the  ruins  of  the  old  city,  taking 
especial  delight  in  visiting  the  Colosseum  and  view- 
ing it  in  the  splendor  of  the  full  moon's  rays.  Creep- 
ing among  its  arches  he  carried  his  mind  back  to  the 
dead  past,  when  this  gigantic  pleasure  house  of  pain 
was  filled  with  multitudes  of  people,  hanging  breath- 
less over  the  terrible  scenes  enacted  at  their  feet. 
And  here  one  night  he  met,  for  the  third  time,  the 
man  he  had  rescued  in  Venice.  The  surprise  was 
mutual. 

"Still  fond  of  night  prowling,  I  see?"  said  Neil- 
ing,  quizzically. 

"  You  cannot  criticise  me  for  what  you  are  your- 
self doing,"  was  the  good-natured  reply. 

"Oh,  but  I  only  came  because  I  find  it  difficult  to 
sleep,  and  thought  I  should  be  quite  alone  here." 

"  Do  you  never  think  of  the  contests  between  men 
and  animals  that  have  gone  on  in  that  arena  !"  ex- 
claimed Gilbert,  waving  his  hand  toward  it. 

"  Never." 

*'  Nor  of  the  Christian  martyrs  who  have  met  death 
there  !" 

"  Certainly  not.  I  have  no  time  to  think  of  suCi. 
sublime  idiocy,  and  I  don't  believe  more  than  half 
that  is  written  about  those  ancient  days.  All 


"l   COULD   LEND  YOU   FIFTY   THOUSAZTD."  39 

so-called  history  is  filled  with  wild  improbabilities. 
Of  course  I  suppose  they  had  some  fights  here  and 
some  Christians  eaten,  but  not  a  hundredth  part  as 
many  as  you  probably  imagine.  At  any  rate,  what- 
ever took  place  was  for  the  mutual  pleasure  and  sat- 
isfaction of  all  concerned,  and  there  is  no  reason  to 
find  fault  with  it  at  this  late  date." 

With  the  horrors  he  had  dreamed  of  still  ringing 
in  his  head,  Mr.  Gray  demanded  an  explanation  of 
these  assertions. 

"Why,"  said  Neiling,  "the  gladiators,  so-called, 
were  criminals  whose  death  was  decided  upon  in 
some  form.  They  had  been  guilty,  usually,  of  mak- 
ing war  against  a  superior  force,  and,  according  to 
the  old  custom,  would  have  been  butchered  without 
mercy,,  perhaps  with  preliminary  torture,  if  they  had 
not  been  sent  here.  With  a  sword  in  his  hand  one 
of  these  men  died  a  thousand  times  as  happily  as  if 
delivered  to  the  shambles  in  another  way.  While  his 
blood  was  hot  in  his  veins  he  hardly  felt  the  stroke 
that  ended  his  misery.  They  gave  him  the  privilege 
of  dying  like  a  man,  instead  of  like  a  brute,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  populace  were  taught  a  valuable 
lesson  of  the  power  of  government  to  punish  its 
enemies.  As  for  the  lions  and  leopards  and  that 
sort  of  thing,  I  don't  suppose  you  need  a  homily  on 
the  advantage  of  getting  them  out  of  the  way.'' 

The  listener  looked  incredulous.  He  had  heard 
one  of  those  arguments  that  do  not  convince,  how- 
ever strong  the  logic  may  appear  to  be. 

"But  the  martyrs  ?"  he  asked. 

"The  most  perfectly  contented  people  imagin- 
able," was  the  cool  reply.  "  According  to  their 


40  LOVE    GONE   A8TRAT. 

doctrine  they  were  going  straight  to  eternal  bliss  the 
moment  the  animals  got  fairly  to  dining.  You  or  I 
would  seize  their  chance  this  minute  if  we  were  sure 
the  bargain  would  be  carried  out.  They  were  satis- 
fied. The  spectators  were  pleased.  There  was  really 
no  one  in  the  whole  affair  who  had  the  slightest  right 
to  complain." 

It  was  a  strange  statement,  and  somehow  Gray  did 
not  believe  his  companion  meant  it  to  be  taken  in 
earnest. 

44 1  hope  you  found  that  business  of  yours  all  right 
— the  matter  you  mentioned  at  Venice,"  said  Gray, 
tentatively,  as  they  passed  along  the  streets. 

"  I  should  say  so  !"  was  the  warm  reply.  "  Not 
only  did  I  recover  all  I  had  lost,  but  a  great  deal 
more.  I  could  lend  you  fifty  thousand  lire  to-night, 
on  good  security,  and  not  incommode  myself  in  the 
least." 

As  Gray  had  no  wish  to  borrow  he  did  not  accept 
the  opportunity.  It  occurred  to  him  that  Mr.  Neil- 
ing  might  propose  to  refund  the  old  loan,  but  it 
seemed  preposterous  to  suggest  such  a  thing  to  a 
gentleman  who  boasted  such  present  possessions.  As 
he  walked  along  he  also  noticed  several  rings  of  no 
small  value  on  his  companion's  fingers,  and  when  the 
clocks  began  to  strike,  Mr.  Neiling  drew  out  an 
elegant  gold  watch,  with  the  remark  that  it  was  well 
to  have  an  accurate  timepiece  in  a  place  where  no 
two  of  those  on  the  churches  agreed  with  each  other. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  shall  be  likely  to  meet  you 
again,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  politely,  when  they  came  to 
a  point  where  their  paths  diverged. 

"  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  said   Neiling,  with  an 


"I   COULD    LEND   YOU   FIFTY   THOUSAND.  4 

abruptness  that  seemed  habitual  to  him.  "  I  am  go- 
ing away  in  a  day  or  two,  but  you  may  see  me  some- 
where, if  you  stay  in  Europe.  I  shall  dance  attend- 
ance in  these  parts,  at  one  place  and  another,  the  rest 
of  the  winter,  I  suppose." 

"  My  home  address  is  on  the  card  I  gave  you  at 
Venice — if  you  still  have  it,"  said  Gray. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  still  have  it,"  replied  Neiling. 

"  And,"  added  Gilbert,  into  whose  mind  there  kept 
coming,  in  spite  of  him,  the  two  hundred  lire,  "  you 
are  not  ready  to  tell  me  yet,  I  presume,  your  real 
name." 

Mr.  Neiling  reflected  a  moment. 

"  Not  quite  yet,  he  said  presently.  "  My  reasons 
for  preserving  an  incognito  still  exist.  In  a  few 
months  I  hope  they  will  have  disappeared.  Good- 
night." 

Upon  arriving  at  his  hotel  Gray  was  met  by  the 
watchman  with  a  very  grave  face.  Mr  Blair  had 
died  suddenly,  they  told  him,  about  an  hour  before. 


42  LOVE   GONE   A8TRAT. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

BECOMING    A    PAUPER. 

DEATH  is  something  for  which,  no  matter  how  long 
we  may  have  looked  upon  it  as  imminent,  we  are 
never  prepared.  The  dead  Mr.  Blair  was  like  a  new 
acquaintance,  and  entirely  different  from  the  living 
Mr.  Blair,  whom  Mr.  Gray  had  come  to  know  very 
well. 

All  the  young  man  could  do  was  to  carry  out  for 
the  dead  Blair  the  wishes  that  had  been  expressed 
by  the  living  one,  though  he  was  not  certain  that  the 
latter  had  any  right  to  dispose  of  the  former  without 
his  consent.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  any  man,  dead  or 
alive,  would  desire  to  be  bundled  into  a  metallic  cof- 
fin and  have  the  cover  screwed  down  over  his  face 
while  he  took  a  long  sea  voyage,  and  afterwards 
elect  to  be  put  five  feet  deep  in  a  trench,  there  to  re- 
main forever. 

Yet  these  were  the  directions  the  living  man  had 
given  long  before,  when  he  had  talked  of  the  possi- 
bilities which  he  did  not  believe  would — but  which 
now  had — occurred.  And  Mr.  Gray  saw  no  way  but  to 
obey  the  behests  of  the  voice  that  had  spoken,  since 
the  tongue  could  utter  nothing  more. 

Although  it  was  well  into  the  winter  the  friends — • 
living  and  dead — took  passage  for  the  United  States. 
The  interment  was  made  in  the  corner  of  a  cemetery 
where  other  generations  of  Blairs  had  long  since  lain. 
This  matter  disposed  of,  Mr.  Gray  was  ready  to  listen 


BECOMING    A   PAUPEK.  48 

to  the  statements  of  his  guardian's  executor,  now  be- 
come by  virtue  of  that  position  a  person  of  peculiar 
importance  to  him. 

This  executor  was  a  lawyer  named  Israel  Dibbs, 
one  of  those  methodical  men  who  are  selected 
out  of  a  community  to  manage  the  affairs  of  deceased 
persons,  under  the  impression  that  the  Grim  Messen- 
ger will  never  lay  his  bony  hand  on  them,  and  that 
they  will  continue  to  collect  rents  and  foreclose 
mortgages  for  a  thousand  years  or  so  after  the  testa- 
tor is  in  his  tomb.  Mr.  Dibbs  sent  for  Gray  at  an 
early  date,  with  the  information  that  there  was  a 
provision  for  him  in  Mr.  Blair's  will. 

"  A  provision — for  me  !"  exclaimed  Gilbert.  "  Why, 
I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  !" 

Mr.  Dibbs  waited  till  this  outburst  was  over,  with 
all  the  dignity  of  a  wooden  image,  and  then  returned 
to  his  text. 

u  Mr.  Blair,  now  deceased,  has  made  a  provision 
for  you,  sir,"  he  reiterated.  "  By  the  terms  of  his 
will  his  property  is  divided  into  two  equal  parts. 
One  half  goes  to  various  societies  of  a  charitable 
nature,  which  are  enumerated.  The  other  half  is  to 
be  held  in  trust  for  his  nephew,  Julius  Margrave,  if 
he  be  living." 

Having  recourse  to  easy  mental  arithmetic  Mr. 
Gray  was  led  to  remark  that  the  portion  of  Mr. 
Blair's  estate  that  was  to  come  to  himself,  after  the 
disposition  of  two  equal  halves  of  it,  must  be  rather 
small.  He  said  this  with  a  smile,  rather  relieved 
than  otherwise. 

"  There  is  another  provision  of  this  will,"  said  Mr. 
Dibbs,  waiting  not  only  until  his  companion  was 


44  LOVB    OONE    ASTEAT. 

silent,  but  some  twenty  or  thirty  seconds  longet,  a 
course  of  procedure  calculated  to  impress  the  beholder 
more  than  any  form  of  words,  "  which  is  the  one 
directly  affecting  you.  In  the  event  that  this  nephew, 
Julius  Margrave,  is  not  found  within  five  years,  or  is 
believed  or  known  to  be  dead  before  that  time,  the 
half  of  the  estate  that  was  to  have  gone  to  him 
reverts  to  Mr.  Gilbert  Gray." 

So  this  was  the  explanation  !  Gilbert  sat  silent 
now,  a  flood  of  sensations  creeping  over  him.  The 
bequest — which  he  did  not  imagine  would  ever 
become  his,  under  this  condition — showed  a  regard 
for  him  in  the  heart  of  his  guardian  of  a  deeper 
nature  than  he  had  ever  suspected. 

"  What  can  you  tell  me  about  this  Mr. — Mr. " 

he  began. 

"  Margrave,"  uttered  the  precise  voice  of  the  law- 
yer. "  Almost  nothing.  A  sister  of  Mr.  Blair  married 
many  years  ago  a  man  of  that  name,  and  dying  left 
a  child — this  Julius.  Between  the  husband  and  Mr. 
Blair  there  existed  little  good  feeling,  and  there  was 
no  occasion  to  trouble  himself  about  him  after  the 
sister  passed  away.  But  when  it  came  to  making  a 
will,  the  trend  of  his  mind  led  him  to  putting  his 
property — or  a  goodly  part  of  it — where  the  law  of 
descent  would  naturally  dictate.  He  had  no  other 
relations,  and  he  compromised  with  his  feelings  by 
dividing  the  estate  between  these  societies,  in  which 
he  has  long  taken  an  interest,  and  this  nephew  he  had 
never  seen." 

Gray  nodded  abstractedly. 

"  You  will,  of  course,  use  every  effort  to  find  him," 
he  said. 


BECOMING    A  PAUPKB.  45 

"  I  shall  take  the  usual  means  of  doing  so,"  replied 
the  lawyer.  "  But  I  may  say  frankly  that  I  do  not 
feel  it  my  duty  to  send  detectives  to  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  globe.  Mr.  Abel  Blair  was  a  gentleman 
fairly  well  known  in  the  commercial  world.  His 
death  abroad  was  telegraphed  by  the  news  agencies 
to  the  principal  papers.  The  public  legacies  he  has 
made  have  been  mentioned  in  denominational  organs 
far  and  wide.  His  portrait,  with  a  sketch  of  his 
career,  has  already  been  arranged  for  in  an  illustrated 
magazine.  The  Board  of  Trade  and  a  score  of  cor- 
porations in  which  he  was  interested  have  passed 
resolutions  on  the  subject  of  his  decease,  which  have 
been  printed  in  the  press.  In  addition  to  this  I  shall 
insert  advertisements  in  two  principal  journals,  one 
abroad  and  one  here,  every  three  months  during  the 
years  I  am  directed  to  wait.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  if  nothing  is  heard,  half  of  Mr.  Blair's  property 
will  belong  to  Gilbert  Gray." 

It  was  clear  that  the  lawyer  saw  before  him  the 
probable  legatee,  and  that  he  had  little  expectation 
of  ever  meeting  the  nephew  mentioned  in  the  will. 

"I  hope  you  may  be  wrong,"  said  Gilbert,  decid- 
edly, feeling  that  he  was  in  a  sense  robbing  this  Mr. 
Margrave  of  his  just  dues,  even  by  discussing  a  con- 
tingency like  the  one  suggested.  "  Mr.  Blair  evidently 
meant  to  give  this  property  to  his  sister's  son,  and 
his  wish  must  be  considered  sacred.  As  for  myself, 
with  what  I  now  have  and  what  I  shall  be  able  to 
earn,  I  see  no  need  of  this  alternative  bequest  with 
which  my  ever  kind  guardian  has  honored  me." 

Mr.  Dibbs  cleared  his  throat  and  adjusted  his 
spectacles,  in  a  manner  that  implied  much. 


46  LOVE   GOKE   ASTRAY. 

"  Do  you  know  exactly  what  is  your  present  finan* 
cial  standing  ?"  he  asked,  pointedly. 

"  No,"  replied  Gray,  "  but  I  presume  you,  who 
have  Mr.  Blair's  accounts  in  your  hands,  can  tell 
me." 

The  lawyer  bowed  slowly,  two  or  three  times. 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  less  than  you  think,"  he  said. 
"  Your  father's  investments  were  not  all  of  the  first 
order.  He  had  debts  which  neither  Mr.  Blair — nor 
I,  for  I  did  the  legal  business — knew  about  till  some 
time  after  his  death.  In  short,  he  was  a  poor  man 
when  the  balance  was  drawn." 

A  line  of  paleness  grew,  in  spite  of  him,  around  the 
lips  of  the  listener.  He  roused  himself  and,  in  a  set 
tone,  demanded  the  figures. 

"It  is  disagreeable  to  tell  you  this,"  said  Mr. 
Dibbs,  "  and  that  is  why  I  prefaced  it  with  informa- 
tion about  the  contingent  inheritance  of  your  guard- 
ian's large  estate.  There  is  no  need  of  your  going 
on  short  commons,  for  with  the  probability  that 
you  will,  at  the  end  of  five  years,  come  into  posses- 
sion   " 

The  young  man  interrupted  the  speaker  with  a 
rap  of  his  hand  on  the  table. 

"  Enough  of  that  !"  he  cried.  "  How  much  is 
there  of  my  own  property?" 

The  lawyer  opened  a  memorandum  book  and  read 
off  the  figures  slowly. 

"  Two  hundred  and  seventy-eight  dollars  and 
sixty-three  cents." 

There  was  a  moment  of  angry  pause,  and  then 
Mr.  Gray  demanded,  "What  are  you  talking  about  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  is  all  I  have  ?" 


BECOMING    A    PAUPER.  4:7 

"That  is  all,"  said  Mr.  Dibbs,  imperturbably. 

"  And  where  is  the  rest  ?"  exclaimed  Gilbert,  hotly. 
"  My  father  had  bonds,  stocks,  real  estate  !  Do  you 
mean  to  say  I  have  used  up  everything  ?  Why,  my 
expenses,  even  in  Europe,  were  only  three  hundred 
dollars  a  month  !  I  shall  insist  on  an  account,  sir, 
before  I  accept  such  figures  as  these  !" 

Not  at  all  excited  by  the  outburst,  which  he  had 
in  fact  expected,  Mr.  Dibbs  proceeded  to  say  that  the 
full  account  of  every  receipt  and  expense  connected 
with  the  estate  of  the  late  Mr.  Gray  was  ready  for 
examination,  and,  he  added,  pointedly,  it  was  all  in 
Mr.  Blair's  handwriting. 

"As  for  the  stocks  and  bonds,"  he  continued,  "if 
you  know  anything  about  market  values,  I  would  like 
to  have  you  examine  them  at  once.  Here,"  drawing 
out  a  tin  box,  "  are  shares  in  the  Golden  Crown 
Lead  Company,  the  Staten  Island  Tunnel,  the " 

"  Never  mind  the  list,"  interrupted  Gray,  for  he 
found  his  temper  rising  instead  of  abating,  as  is  apt 
to  be  the  case  with  those  proved  in  the  wrong.  "  If 
the  account  of  my  estate  is  in  Mr.  Blair's  writing — 
mind,  in  his  own  hand — I  shall  be  satisfied,  and  will 
look  no  further.  There  is  another  thing  I  do  not  un- 
derstand, and  that  is  why  he  has  allowed  me  to  spend 
almost  my  last  penny  in  idleness  abroad  instead  of 
telling  me  the  worst  and  letting  me  get  started  in 
some  method  of  earning  my  living." 

The  reply  which  the  lawyer  gave  to  this  only  ex- 
asperated the  young  man  further.  The  sum  he  had 
mentioned  was  the  entire  estate  of  the  elder  Gray, 
and  every  dollar  that  Gilbert  had  received  since  his 
father's  death  had  come  out  of  Mr.  Blair's  pocket. 


48  LOVE.  GONE    ASTBAY. 

"  He  thought,"  explained  Mr.  Dibbs,  "  that  as  your 
inheritance  was  too  small  to  be  of  any  use  in  starting 
a  business  career  it  was  as  well  for  you  to  take  some 
months  of  foreign  travel.  As  he  had  the  benefit  of 
your  society  he  was  glad  to  defray  the  joint  expense. 
It  was  also,  as  I  know,  his  intention,  when  he  re- 
turned (as  he  never  lost  faith  he  should  do)  to  get 
you  into  some  good  house  where,  by  industry  and 
perseverance,  you  could  make  your  own  way." 

For  a  moment  the  anger  of  the  youth  was  turned 
against  his  dead  friend.  That  person  had  no  right 
to  swindle  him  with  false  hopes  which  were  sure  to 
be  dashed  to  the  ground.  Then  he  turned  again  to 
the  lawyer. 

"  How  soon  can  you  have  those  accounts  ready  for 
me  to  see  ?"  he  asked,  sharply. 

"They  are  ready  now." 

"I  don't  want  to  examine  them  to-day.  I  will 
come  to-morrow.  And  whatever  there  is  belonging 
to  me — whether  it  be  two  hundred  dollars  or  ten 
cents — I  shall  want  to  take  with  me." 

"There  will  be  a  few  legal  preliminaries  neces- 
sary," explained  Mr.'  Dibbs,  "  as  I  am  acting  upon 
the  trust  of  another.  It  may  require  a  month  or  two 
— I  cannot  tell  exactly — but  in  the  meantime  you  can 
have  any  reasonable  sum  you  wish.  It's  not  best  to 
be  too  hot-headed,  young  man.  There  is  no  harm 
in  borrowing  money  on  which  you  are  to  pay  interest, 
and  you  might  as  well  get  it  of  me  as  of  another." 

Too  disturbed  to  argue  the  matter  at  that  time, 
Gilbert  could  only  ejaculate  "  To-morrow,"  and  rid 
himself  as  rapidly  as  possible  of  the  hateful  presence. 
He  walked  down  the  wintry  street  with  his  brow 


BECOMING    A   PAUPER.  49 

burning  with  fever.  He  was  a  pauper  !  The  knowl- 
edge was  very  bitter.  He  had  not  expected  to  be 
rich — he  had  always  supposed  he  would  have  to 
work — but  he  had  never  imagined  that  his  patrimony 
could  shrink  to  these  proportions.  Mr.  Blair  had  not 
intimated  anything  that  savored  of  such  beggary. 
And  he  had  spent  his  guardian's  money  with  a  free 
hand,  believing  it  his  own,  and  supposing  that  plenty 
more  lay  in  the  vaults  of  the  bank  behind  it. 

As  loudly  as  he  had  demanded  to  "  see  the  ac- 
count !"  he  had  not  doubted  the  correctness  of  Mr. 
Dibbs'  statements,  for  an  instant. 

"Two  hundred  dollars  !  That  meant  a  garret 
and  bread  and  cheese— with  an  immediate  applica- 
tion to  some  counting-room  for  a  desk  at  low  wages, 
if  indeed  he  were  lucky  enough  to  obtain  one  ! 

After  a  miserable  night  Gray  went  back  to  the 
lawyer's  office  and  listened  in  a  kind  of  daze  while 
the  books  that  Mr.  Blair  had  carefully  kept  were  ex- 
plained to  him.  The  senior  Gray  had  been  one  of 
those  men  of  optimistic  mind,  who  purchase  the  low- 
est priced  stocks  in  the  market,  and  fan  their  belief 
that  mills  will  turn  to  dollars  some  day,  as  has.  hap- 
pened in  the  case  of  shares  they  are  always  fond  of 
instancing.  The  real  estate  he  owned  was  heavily 
mortgaged  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  the  equities 
were  absolutely  worthless.  The  debts  he  left  had  to 
be  paid  with  the  most  available  assets.  All  that  was 
left  amounted,  at  their  present  value,  to  the  pitiful 
sum  that  the  lawyer  had  mentioned  yesterday. 

"As  the  trust  which  Mr.  Blair  assumed,  and  which 
I  inherit,  cannot  be  given  up  at  once,"  suggested 
Mr.  Dibbs  for  the  second  time,  "  I  must  again  advise 


50  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

you  to  accept  a  loan  of  what  you  need.  To  put  it  in 
plain  words,  if  you  want  two  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  for  the  next  five  years,  on  your  expect- 
ations, at  twelve  per  cent.,  I  will  advance  it  to  you 
with  pleasure." 

But  Gilbert  shook  his  head  with  decision. 

"  I  want  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  he.  "  I  will  not 
be  put  in  a  position  where  my  interests  are  going  to 
clash  with  the  rightful  inheritor  of  this  property. 
And  I  don't  think  it  would  be  honest  for  me  to  put 
your  personal  estate  at  risk  in  such  a  way  that  it 
would  cause  you  loss  if  Mr.  Margrave* turns  up." 

"Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  the  lawyer,  reddening 
slightly,  "  I  can  afford  to  run  my  chances,  and  I 
think  my  probity  sufficiently  established  to  place  me 
above  the  suspicion  of  jobbery.  Even  if  I  loaned 
you  this  sum,  and  Mr.  Margrave  appeared,  he  should 
step  into  possession  of  his  own,  as  freely  as  if  I  were 
not  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  out  of 
pocket.  But  I  feel  so  certain  that  he  never  will 
come — in  fact,  that  he  is  long  since  dead — that  I  want 
you  to  begin  as  soon  as  possible  to  reap  the  benefits 
Mr.  Blair  intended  for  you." 

To  this  Gilbert  refused  to  listen,  though  he  began 
to  think  he  had  been  unnecessarily  rude  to  the  man 
of  the  law.  He  persisted  that  if  Mr.  Blair  had  in- 
tended him  to  have  two  thousand  five  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year,  or  any  sum  from  his  estate,  he  would 
have  made  his  will  in  that  manner,  instead  of  speci- 
fying that  he  should  wait  five  years  and  then  depend 
upon  a  contingency.  He  would  have  been  glad  now 
had  the  will  read  differently.  He  did  not  like  to  be 
left  face  to  face  with  poverty.  But  his  honor  was  in- 


BECOMING   A   PAUPER.  51 

tact,  and  he  had  not  yet  experienced  that  sharp  con- 
tact with  the  world  which  blunts  it. 

"  I  will  take  nothing  but  what  is  legitimately 
mine,"  he  said,  in  response  to  every  argument ;  "  but 
I  owe  you  an  apology  for  my  manner  of  receiving 
the  unpleasant  news  you  broke  to  me  yesterday,  and 
I  make  it  freely.  And  now  can  you  think  of  any 
situation  which  I  could  fill,  for  I  want  to  begia  with' 
out  delay  to  earn  my  bread." 

Mr.  Dibbs,  after  casting  about  in  his  mind  a  few 
moments,  said  he  could  think  of  nothing  at  present, 
but  would  make  some  inquiries.  In  the  meantime, 
Gray  would  do  well  to  look  about  for  himself.  With 
this  understanding  they  parted. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  though  he  had  "looked 
about'"  with  diligence,  Gilbert  had  found  absolutely 
nothing  that  he  could  do,  and  his  distress  increased 
as  he  went  from  place  to  place  and  saw  his  unfitness 
for  the  positions  offered.  He  went  to  Mr.  Dibbs* 
office  again,  in  a  much  humbler  frame  of  mind  than 
before,  and  told  that  gentleman  frankly  what  had 
occurred. 

*•  This  leads  me  to  make  you  an  offer  on  my  own 
account,"  said  the  lawyer,  gravely,  "  which  I  should 
otherwise  have  hesitated  to  do.  I  am  a  very  busy 
man  and  have  now,  with  Mr.  Blair's  estate  and 
others  that  are  in  my  charge,  more  than  I  can  attend 
to  just  at  present.  I  think  you  could,  if  you  chose, 
be  of  some  assistance  in  caring  for  my  trust  prop- 
erty, collecting  rents,  seeing  to  repairs,  etc.,  as  well 
as  making  journeys  to  various  places  and  looking 
into  matters  that  require  attention.  For  this  work  I 
am  not  able  to  offer  you  a  large  compensation,  but 


69  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

it  might  keep  you  occupied  until  something  better 
turns  up." 

"  I  will  take  it  gladly,"  was  the  quick  reply,  the 
prospect  of  earning  anything  whatever  seeming  too 
good  to  be  lost.  "  You  are  very  kind  to  make  the 
proposition." 

But  to  this  Mr.  Dibbs  demurred,  saying  it  was 
wholly  a  business  matter  with  him,  and  he  wanted  it 
treated  as  such.  He  was  willing  to  pay  fifteen  dol- 
lars a  week,  with  necessary  expense  of  travel,  etc., 
and  possibly  the  salary  might  be  raised  to  twenty 
later.  Gray  seized  upon  the  .offer  without  more  ado, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  begin  his  duties 
the  very  next  morning. 

Never  having  had  the  slightest  business  experi- 
ence it  is  doubtful  if  the  young  man  ever  really 
earned  the  meagre  salary  which  he  began  to  receive, 
but  he  brought  to  the  work  an  honesty  of  purpose 
and  a  probity  of  conduct.  If  Mr.  Dibbs  had  been 
wholly  disingenuous  in  employing  him  the  connec- 
tion might  have  gone  on  much  longer  than  it  did,  to 
the  mutual  advantage  of  both.  The  fact  was,  how- 
ever, that  the  engagement  was  only  a  scheme  on  the 
lawyer's  part  for  bringing  Gray  to  the  agreement  he 
had  first  suggested.  Mr.  Dibbs  believed  thoroughly 
that  this  was  the  only  sensible  thing  for  him  to  do, 
and  felt  that  the  obstinacy  with  which  he  held  out  de- 
served to  be  overcome.  If  he  could  reduce  the 
youth  to  actual  want,  and  then  give  him  no  other 
alternative  than  to  accept  his  offer  he  believed  he 
would  be  doing  him  a  real  kindness. 

But  Gray  proved  a  mulish  subject  to  handle. 
He  lived,  after  a  fashion,  on  the  fifteen  dollars  a 


BECOMING    A    PAUPEK.  53 

week  that  was  paid  him,  and  repelled  all  offers  to 
take  the  first  penny  from  his  prospective  inheritance. 
Then  Dibbs,  who  knew  that  Mr.  Blair  had  never  be- 
lieved his  nephew  alive,  and  had  only  intended  to 
give  this  young  man  a  little  experience  of  the  value 
of  money,  determined  to  force  matters.  He  there- 
fore announced  to  Gray,  one  day,  that  he  should  not 
need  his  services  after  the  following  week. 

Somewhat  disheartened,  but  not  at  all  ready  to 
give  up,  Gilbert  looked  about  for  another  situation, 
and  soon  heard  of  one  at  a  fair  salary  in  Amster- 
dam, where  a  concern  wanted  just  the  sort  of  man 
he  conceived  himself  to  be,  one  acquainted  with 
America  and  able  to  talk  a  certain  line  of  goods 
into  Americans  travelling  abroad.  Correspondence 
passed, -and  he  was  advised  to  come  to  Holland  at 
once.  Arriving  there  he  was  given  the  position,  and 
held  it  just  three  weeks,  by  which  time  both  he  and 
his  employers  were  satisfied  that  he  was  wholly  un- 
fitted for  its  duties.  The  termination  of  the  engage- 
ment that  naturally  followed  did  not  include  a  pay- 
ment of  a  return  fare  across  the  ocean,  and  he 
walked  out  of  the  office  in  a  very  low  frame  of 
mind. 

At  his  lodging  was  a  letter  from  Dibbs,  renewing 
the  offer  to  loan  him  whatever  money  he  needed,  in 
case  he  ever  should  get  short  of  funds.  He  tore  it 
up  in  a  violent  rage  and  stamped  on  it  with  his  feet. 

"  I  will  live  on  a  crust  a  day  and  finally  die  of 
inanition  in  a  garret,"  he  exclaimed,  "  before  I  will 
accept  of  a  dollar  from  that  man  !" 

And  he  began  to  carry  out  his  program.  He  went 
to  London,  where  he  hired  the  poorest  lodging  he 


54  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

could  find,  and  dined  in  his  room  on  the  cheapest 
food,  while  he  followed  all  possible  clues  that  seemed 
to  offer  a  chance  to  earn  a  living,  however  poor. 

At  last  he  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  take  a, 
steerage  passage  home,  the  only  one  he  could  raisq 
the  money  for,  and  search  among  his  distant  relations 
for  some  one  to  help  him  out  of  his  dilemma.  But 
this  course  of  procedure  he  postponed  in  very  shame, 
and  wandered,  a  most  disconsolate  figure,  up  and 
down  the  streets,  hoping  against  hope  that  some- 
thing would  put  him  on  his  feet  again. 

One  day,  while  strolling  in  Hyde  Park,  he  saw  a 
familiar  figure,  riding  a  spirited  horse  up  and  down 
the  road,  so  well  dressed  and  wearing  such  an  air  of 
importance  that  he  hesitated  a  long  time  before  he 
could  summon  courage  enough  to  make  himself 
known.  But  at  last  he  stepped  up  to  the  path  and, 
when  the  rider  returned,  called  him  by  name. 

"  Mr.  Neiling  !" 

The  cavalier  stopped  his  horse  with  a  jerk  and 
looked  in  astonishment,  not  to  say  alarm,  at  the 
speaker. 

"  The  devil!  It's  Gray  !"  he  exclaimed.  Then  in 
a  lower  voice,  "  You  must  not  call  to  me  like  that  in 
a  public  place.  What  do  you  want  ?  Speak 
quickly  !" 

Stupefied  by  this  strange  manner  Gilbert  could 
hardly  open  his  mouth. 

"  I  want  the  two  hundred  francs  you  borrowed  of 
me  a  year  ago  !"  he  managed  to  ejaculate,  in  an  in- 
jured tone. 

The  rider  touched  one  of  his  spurs  to  his   horse 


DAKIUS   YATES,    BOLICITOR.  55 

and  made  him  spring  backward,  with  a  handsome 
movement. 

"That's  a  nice  way  to  dun  a  gentleman,  isn't  it  ?" 
he  said  sarcastically.  "  Coming  up  like  a  highway- 
man with  a  '  Stand  and  deliver  'on  a  public  road." 

"  It's  not  a  question  of  ways,"  replied  Gray,  husk- 
ily. I  need  the  money,  badly.  I  don't  know  where 
else  to  find  you,  and  I  want  you  to  pay  me  now." 

"  But  I  haven't  got  it  with  me  !"  was  the  testy  an- 
swer. "  I  don't  go  lined  with  ducats.  And  I  can't 
be  seen  here  talking  with  you  either."  He  reflected 
a  moment.  "  You  know  where  Ludgate  circus  is,  I 
suppose.  Be  there  to-night,  at  the  corner  of  New 
Bridge  street.  Two  hundred  francs  !  Eight  pounds 
English  !  A  pretty  sum  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  !" 

And  before  the  American  could  say  any  more  on 
the  subject,  the  handsome  horse  had  given  another 
bound  and  was  off  like  an  arrow  in  the  direction  of 
the  Gate. 


CHAPTER    V. 

DARIUS   YATES,    SOLICITOR. 

YOUNG  Mr.  Gray  was  so  indignant  at  this  manner 
of  being  received  that  he  started  to  leave  the  Park  in 
a  state  of  unusual  temper.  Had  the  case  been 
reversed  he  was  certain  he  would  have  given  his 
benefactor  double  the  amount  borrowed,  besides  a 
thousand  expressions  of  gratitude.  He  was  so  full  of 
his  wrongs  that  he  did  not  hear  a  gentleman  who  was 


56  LOTB   GONE   AS':  JtAY. 

hastening  after  him  and  had  called  his  name  twice, 
until  one  of  the  passers  drew  his  attention  to  him. 

Turning,  he  saw  Mr.  Darius  Yates,  the  solicitor  he 
had  met  in  Venice  the  previous  year,  and  the  next 
moment  he  was  grasped  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"Delighted  to  see  you!"  were  the  words  with 
which  he  was  greeted.  "When  did  you  come  to 
London,  and  why  have  you  not  called  on  me  ?" 

Now,  although  reduced  to  short  commons  in  the 
matter  of  food  and  lodging,  Gilbert  had  managed  to 
keep  up  his  personal  appearance,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  the  straits  through  which  he  had 
passed.  But  with  the  honesty  that  was  a  part  of  his 
inmost  nature,  he  at  once  told  Mr.  Yates  the  entire 
truth,  as  fast  as  he  could  make  the  explanation. 
The  latter  listened  to  the  recital  of  Mr.  Blair's  death, 
of  the  disappearance  of  the  expected  patrimony,  of 
the  various  attempts  to  earn  a  living,  and  their  suc- 
cessive failures.  And  he  did  not  interrupt  once  dur* 
ing  the  narrative. 

"  You  have  been  unfortunate,"  he  said,  when  Gray 
finished,  "  but  that  sort  of  hard  luck  can't  last  for- 
ever. It's  no  reason  why  you  should  neglect  your 
friends  because  you're  not  for  the  moment  at  the  tap 
of  the  heap." 

"  But  I  lost  your  address,"  stammered  Gray,  \vho 
had  really  forgotten  that  such  a  person  lived  in  Lon- 
don, and  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  dilemma  as  easy  as 
he  could. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  it  again,"  smiled  the  solicitor, 
"  for  you  must  go  to  my  office  and  get  it  well  fixed 
in  your  mind.  There  should  be  an  opening  for  a 
bright  young  fellow  like  you  somewhere  in  this  city, 


DARIUS   YATES,    SOLICITOR.  57 

and  I  intend,  with  your  permission,  to  find  it.  Let 
me  ask,  however,  before  I  forget  it,  who  was  that 
horseman  that  I  saw  you  talking  with  a  moment  ago. 
It  seems  to  me  that  his  face  is  one  I  have  met 
before." 

He  had  taken  Gray's  acceptance  of  the  invitation 
to  go  to  his  office  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
was  walking  with  him  in  that  direction.  As  he 
asked  this  question,  the  countenance  of  the  younger 
man,  which  had  lightened  a  little,  clouded  again. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  shouldn't  tell  you,"  he  said, 
"  though  in  ordinary  circumstances  I  should  hesitate. 
Do  you  recall  a  story  I  related  in  Venice  of  lending 
money  to  a  fellow  I  found  sleeping  on  the  stones  of 
St.  Mark's  !" 

Mr.  Yates  indicated  that  he  recalled  it  very  well. 

"  That  is  the  man  !"  said  Gray,  bitterly.  "  Yes," 
he  repeated,  as  his  companion  met  the  statement  with 
an  incredulous  look,  "  that's  the  chap  I  fed  when  he 
had  eaten  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  to 
whom  I  gave  money  enough  to  enable  him  to  go  to 
Rome,  where  he  succeeded  in  recovering  the  property 
he  had  lost.  And  when  I  meet  him  here,  and  ask 
politely  for  what  is  my  own,  telling  him  I  absolutely 
need  the  amount,  he  treats  me  like  a  beggar  !" 

The  solicitor  said  he  could  not  express  his  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  you  say  so,"  answered  Gilbert. 
"This  is  the  third  time  I  have  met  him  when  he  was 
in  affluent  circumstances,  and  he  still  has  my  money. 
He  promises  to  give  it  to  me  this  evening,  if  I  will 
attend  his  convenience  at  a  place  he  designates,  and 
I  suppose  I've  got  to  humble  myself  to  do  it." 


58  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

Mr.  Yates  showed  the  greatest  interest  in  the  state- 
ment, much  greater  than  one  would  expect  to  find  in 
a  casual  acquaintance.  Gray  could  not  help  feeling 
grateful  to  him,  for,  in  his  present  condition,  even  a 
kind  look  was  not  to  be  despised.  The  solicitor  also 
eyed  his  companion  intently  during  the  progress  of 
his  narration,  and  seemed  to  take  a  mental  inventory 
of  his  physical  attributes. 

"  He  is  the  very  man  I  want,"  he  murmured  to 
himself.  "  Good  luck  has  thrown  in  my  way  the 
identical  individual  I  have  been  searching  for." 

At  a  tall  building  he  halted,  and  indicated  to  Gray 
that  this  was  where  his  office  was  located.  When 
the  pair  had  ascended  the  stairs  they  entered  a  hand- 
some room,  furnished  in  much  better  taste  than  is 
ordinarily  found  among  members  of  the  bar.  After 
exchanging  a  word  or  two  with  one  of  the  clerks 
that  were  busy  writing  at  an  inner  chamber,  Yates 
closed  the  door  between  the  rooms,  and  sat  down 
beside  his  friend. 

"  What  particular  line  do  you  think  you  would  like 
to  follow  ?"  he  asked,  pleasantly. 

To  this  the  younger  man  responded,  with  a  shake 
of  his  head,  that  he  was  in  no  position  to  make  stip- 
ulations. His  finances  were  at  their  lowest  ebb,  and 
unless  something  was  soon  done  he  would  presently 
be  at  the  end  of  his  resources. 

"  Even  counting  the  eight  pounds  you  are  to  re- 
ceive from  your  ungrateful  acquaintance,"  smiled 
Mr.  Yates. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Gray,  "  even  with  that.  And  I 
feel  by  no  means  certain  that  he  will  keep  his  ap- 


DARIUS   TATKS,    SOLICITOR.  59 

pointment.  If  I  were  not  in  such  pressing  need,  I 
would  decline  to  meet  him." 

The  conversation  continued  for  an  hour,  during 
which  the  solicitor  learned  everything  he  chose  to 
ask  of  the  history  of  his  companion.  A  great  deal 
of  it  had  been  told  him  in  their  talks  at  Venice,  bu'_ 
he  now  had  more  reason  than  before  to  possess  him- 
self of  the  minutest  details.  He  was  evidently 
pleased  with  the  frank  answers  he  received  to  all  his 
questions,  and  rubbed  his  palms  together  softly  as 
each  reply  confirmed  the  opinion  he  had  originally 
formed. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gray,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  have  been 
thinking  about  your  case,  and  if  you  will  put  your- 
self into  my  hands,  I  will  see  what  can  be  done.  No, 
don't  thank  me  just  yet.  I  am  a  rather  selfish  sort 
of  fellow,  and  perhaps  I  have  an  axe  of  my  own  to 
grind.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  tell  you  something  definite,  but  to-day  I  can  only 
make  a  provisional  offer.  Attached  to  these  offices 
is  a  suite  of  rooms,  which  I  occupied  for  a  long  time* 
myself,  in  the  days  of  my  bachelorhood.  They  are 
rather  cosy,  and  the  man  who  used  to  attend  to  my 
wants  is  still  within  sound  of  the  bell.  You  can 
move  into  those  rooms  at  once,  and  consider  your- 
self at  home  there.  In  addition,  you  may  draw  on 
me  for  five  pounds  a  week  in  advance.  If  I  find  that 
I  cannot  make  other  arrangements  for  you,  I  agree 
to  give  you  a  fortnight's  notice,  or  your  salary  for 
that  time,  whenever  our  engagement  ends.  What  do 
you  say  ?" 

Quite  dazed  by  what  seemed  a  bit  of  impossibly 


LOVE   GONE   A8TKAT. 

good  fortune,  Gilbert  stammered  an  acceptance,  and 
requested  to  know  what  his  duties  were  to  be. 

"For  the  present — nothing,"  said  Mr.  Yates, 
gravely.  "  You  have  a  fair  wardrobe,  I  suppose.  I 
see  your  watch  and  chain  have  not  yet  found  their 
way  to  the  pawnshop." 

"No,"  was  the  blushing  reply.  "I  have  not 
reached  that  stage.  In  the  way  of  clothing  I  need 
no  more  than  I  shall  now  be  easily  able  to  get.  And 
I  am  to  do — nothing?" 

The  solicitor  bowed. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  more  truthful  to  say  that  you 
are  to  appear  to  do  nothing.  I  shall  introduce  you 
to  my  clerks — and  to  others — as  a  friend  who  is  to 
spend  some  weeks  with  me.  The  character  you  are 
to  assume  is  to  be  precisely  your  own — that  of  a 
young  American  gentleman  of  good  family  and  edu- 
cation, who  is  looking  for  a  chance  to  place  himself 
suitably  in  life.  You  will  not  be  expected — and  I 
think  you  will  not  desire — to  reveal  the  full  extent 
of  your  previous  ill  fortune.  As  nothing  else  in  your 
career  is  to  be  concealed,  I  do  not  give  you  a  very 
difficult  role  to  play.  Of  course  there  is  no  denying 
that  I  have  a  purpose  in  view  in  making  these  ar- 
rangements, but  I  promise  you  that  your  interests 
will  be  in  no  manner  compromised." 

The  proposition  was  truly  a  strange  one,  and  the 
young  man  wished  for  a  moment  that  his  duties  were 
to  consist  of  something  more  tangible,  in  which  he 
could  feel  that  he  was  really  earning  the  wages  re- 
ceived. However,  he  was  in  no  condition  to  make 
terms,  and  he  intimated  again  that  he  was  wholly  at 
the  service  of  Mr.  Yates. 


DABIUS   TATE8,    8OLICITOB.  61 

"As  I  have  some  matters  to  attend  to,"  said  the 
solicitor,  much  pleased  at  the  prompt  agreement  of 
his  new  friend,  "  let  me  show  you  your  rooms  and 
ask  that  you  have  your  belongings  sent  here  this 
afternoon.  If  you  are  obliged  to  pay  in  advance  for 
your  present  quarters,  on  account  of  leaving  so  ab- 
ruptly, I  shall  consider  that  an  extra  to  be  charged 
to  me.  Amuse  yourself  as  you  please  until  six 
o'clock,  when  I  should  like  to  find  you  in  evening 
dress,  ready  to  accompany  me  out  to  dinner.  Reign- 
ley,"  he  called,  opening  the  interior  door,  "my  friend, 
Mr.  Gilbert  Gray,  who  has  come  to  stay  some  time 
with  me,  will  occupy  my  old  apartments  here.  If 
you  want  anything,  Mr.  Gray,  you  will  call  freely 
upon  Reignley,  and  upon  our  domestic,  in  case  I  am 
out." 

The  clerk  and  Mr.  Gray  exchanged  nods,  and  Mr. 
Yates  proceeded  to  introduce  the  American  to  his 
new  home,  which  he  found  cosily  furnished  and  quite 
a  contrast  in  every  way,  not  only  to  the  one  he  was 
to  leave,  but  to  most  London  lodgings. 

"To  get  my  trunks  and  get  ready  for  dinner — 
that  is  all  for  to-day  ?"  asked  Gilbert,  still  feeling 
the  duties  assigned  to  be  very  strange  ones. 

"That  is  all,  and  to-morrow  will  be  very  much 
like  it,"  smiled  the  solicitor. 

**  The  dinner — is  it  to  be  at  a  private  house  ?" 

"No,  Mr.  Inquisitive  ;  at  a  public  restaurant." 

The  day  was  certainly  the  most  agreeable  that  Gil- 
bert had  spent  for  months,  as  he  said  to  himself,  when 
he  lay  at  last  among  his  pillows.  He  had  dined 
elegantly  with  several  friends  of  Mr.  Yates',  who  had 
treated  him  with  the  courtesy  due  a  foreigner  and 


62  LOVE   GONK    ASTRAY. 

stranger,  who  comes  with  a  good  introduction. 
After  the  dinner  all  had  gone,  rather  late,  to  one  of 
the  theatres,  where  Gilbert  devoted  less  attention  to 
the  play  than  to  a  family  in  one  of  the  opposite 
boxes,  among  whom  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
young  girls  he  had  ever  seen,  wearing  an  appearance 
of  reserve  that  amounted  almost  to  sadness,  and 
which  excited  his  utmost  interest.  He  noted  that 
Mr.  Yates  exchanged  bows  with  an  elderly  lady  in 
that  party,  who  seemed  to  be  the  young  lady's 
mother,  but  the  solicitor  appeared  so  well  known, 
that  salutations  from  the  various  boxes  were  the 
rule  rather  than  the  exception. 

"  An  unusually  pretty  girl  that,"  was  all  that  Mr. 
Yates  said  about  her,  except  to  add,  "  and  a  com- 
patriot of  yours,  by-the-way." 


CHAPTER   VI. 
"  THEN  THERE'S  A  FATHER,  TOO  ?" 

IT  was  in  the  morning,  as  the  clock  was  striking 
nine,  that  Gray  awoke.  He  sprang  out  of  bed  with 
a  feelingthat  he  was  neglecting  his  duties  ;  and  then 
recollecting  that  there  were  none  to  perform,  he 
rang,  and  requested  the  domestic  to  ask  Mr.  Reign- 
ley  if  Mr.  Yates  had  arrived,  or  if  any  message  had 
been  received  from  him.  A  negative  reply  was  re- 
ceived and  a  light  breakfast  was  served  in  his  rooms 
somewhat  to  his  surprise,  for  nothing  had  been  said 


"  THEN   THKKE'S  A  FATHER,  TOO  ?"  63 

about  that.  When  he  had  eaten  and  dressed  he 
strolled  out  of  doors  to  dissipate  his  ennui,  and  re- 
turned about  eleven  o'clock,  to  find  the  solicitor 
busy  at  his  desk. 

"  How  are  you  this  morning  ?"  was  the  question 
that  greeted  him.  "  Quite  well,  I  am  sure,  judging 
from  your  appearance.  I  have  a  lot  to  do  just  now, 
and  shall  have  to  beg  you  to  excuse  me  at  lunch,  but 
if  you  are  here  at  four  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  com- 
pany for  a  drive.  Nothing  particular  to  say,  I  sup- 
pose ?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  Gray,  for  Reignley  was  present, 
and  his  character  as  a  genuine  friend  of  Mr.  Yates' 
was  at  stake. 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  lunch  at  the  Piccadilly, 
to-day,"  continued  Mr.  Yates,  with  his  eyes  on  the 
papers  he  was  examining.  "  To-morrow  I  will  put 
you  up  at  my  club,  where  things  are  much  better. 
You  found  the  morning  newspapers  in  your  room,  I 
hope.  I  told  the  man  to  have  them  for  you  when 
you  awoke." 

It  was  a  strange  kind  of  employment,  dining  with 
a  party  of  gentlemen,  being  taken  to  the  theatre, 
given  an  elegant  suite  of  rooms  to  live  in,  and  a 
drive  in  the  Park  for  the  afternoon.  The  manner  of 
Mr.  Yates  took  away  the  feeling  that  might  other- 
wise have  marred  the  enjoyment  of  these  things,  and 
Gilbert  strove  to  overcome  his  few  remaining  scruples. 
At  present  he  saw  no  reason  to  refuse  the  change  of 
life.  He  had  been  terribly  tired  of  the  narrow  quar- 
ters he  had  occupied  and  the  miserable  meals  he  had 
been  obliged  to  eat.  If  it  transpired  that  the  solici- 
tor wished  to  be  repaid  for  his  kindness  by  the  sac- 


64  LOVB    GONE    A8TEAT. 

rifiea  of  anything  inconsistent  with  honor,  Gilbert  felt 
that  he  was  fully  able  to  meet  the  dilemma.  He  could 
not,  however,  reconcile  a  fear  of  this  sort  with  the 
correct  deportment  and  the  position  in  society  which 
his  new  friend  gave  unquestionable  evidence  of  pos- 
sessing. 

"There  was  one  matter  that  I  forgot  last  evening," 
said  Gray  to  the  solicitor,  when  ffhey  were  driving 
that  afternoon,  "and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  till  an 
hour  ago.  You  may  remember  that  I  had  an  ap- 
pointment with  my  debtor  for  the  payment  of  two 
hundred  francs." 

"  So  you  had,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  with  a  laugh. 
"Well,  all  I  can  do  is  to  credit  it  to  your  account. 
It  was  clearly  my  fault  that  you  were  unable  to  be 
there  to  get  your  money." 

"Oh,  no  !"  replied  the  young  man, earnestly.  "  If 
I  remain  in  London  I  shall  be  almost  sure  to  meet 
him  again,  and  the  amount  is  not  so  vital  to  me  as 
it  was  yesterday." 

"  Very  well.  But,  if  you  meet  him,  and  he  asks 
questions,  please  don't  say  anything  about  our 
arrangements.  In  fact,  if  he  is  the  kind  of  fellow 
he  seems,  it  would  be  best  to  avoid  all  unnecessary 
talk  with  him.  I  am  afraid  he  is  a  bad  one." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,"  said  Gray.  "  He  is  not 
a  man  I  would  care  to  have  anything  to  do  with." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by 
the  sudden  appearance  at  a  turn  in  the  road  of  a 
carriage,  in  which  were  seated  the  young  lady  and 
her  mother  that  Gilbert  had  noticed  at  the  theatre 
the  preceding  night.  As  the  vehicles  passed  closely 
to  each  other  both  gentlemen  lifted  their  hats  and 


"THEN  THERE'S  A  FATHER,  TOO?"  65 

received  a  very  agreeable  bow  from  the  elder  lady, 
accompanied  by  a  hardly  perceptible  one  from  her 
daughter. 

"  A  decidedly  handsome  young  woman  !"  said  Mr. 
Yates. 

"Rather  cold,  however,"  was  Mr.  Gray's  comment. 

"Appearances  are  not  always  to  be  relied  upon  in 
such  matters,"  said  his  friend,  wisely.  "I  do  not 
think  that  dignity  detracts  from  the  merit  of  a 
young  woman  in  this  age  of  frivolity." 

There  seemed  something  in  this  observation  which 
Gilbert  took  as  rather  a  rebuke,  and  he  parried  the 
thrust  by  asking  if  Mr.  Yates  knew  the  family  well. 

"Very  well  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "They  are 
Americans  of  wealth  and  position.  The  father  is 
really  quite  eminent,  I  understand." 

"Then  there  is  a  father,  too  ?"  said  Gray. 

"  Why,  yes.  Is  that  addition  to  a  household  so  un- 
common in  your  country  ?  He  is  a  little  out  of 
health — has  some  special  trouble  just  now  that  keeps 
him  at  his  hotel.  This  daughter  is  his  only  child 
and  will  inherit  everything.  A  lucky  man  he'll  be 
who  gets  her  for  his  wife,  eli  ?" 

Gilbert  nodded  assent.  The  girl  was  certainly 
very  fair,  and  the  addition  of  a  fortune  to  her  charms 
was  not  one  he  was  in  a  present  position  to  under- 
rate. Mr.  Yates  talked  a  great  deal  about  the  fam- 
ily, and  the  young  man  listened  with  due  deference 
to  all  that  was  said.  Then  other  drivers  were  met 
with,  about  whom  the  solicitor  also  discoursed  in  the 
charming  way  he  had,  and  the  ride  was  brought  to 
an  end  by  another  invitation  to  dinner,  which  proved 
as  pleasant  as  that  of  yesterday. 


66  LOVE   GONB   ASTRAr. 

The  succeeding  days  passed  in  much  the  same 
manner,  and  Gray  was  becoming  accustomed  to  his 
novel  position.  Among  the  things  that  his  new 
friend  insisted  upon  was  that  he  should  ride  in  the 
Row  each  morning,  on  a  very  spirited  animal  which 
he  secured  for  that  purpose.  Having  been  a  horse- 
man from  his  early  youth  Gray  made  a  fine  figure 
as  he  galloped  along  the  path  on  his  handsome 
mount,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  other  cavaliers, 
who  asked  with  surprise  whom  the  newcomer  mignt 
be.  The  exercise  brought  the  blood  to  his  cheeks 
and  secured  for  him  the  admiring  glances  of  many 
of  the  fair  sex  who  were,  like  him,  taking  their  con- 
stitutionals  in  the  favorite  resort  of  London  fashion. 
As  Mr.  Yates  did  not  ride,  Gray  was  left  to  his  own 
devices,  and  came  to  regard  the  canter  which  he  took 
between  nine  and  eleven  as  the  most  enjoyable  part 
of  each  day. 

But,  as  might  have  been  foreseen,  one  of  the  persons 
he  met  while  engaged  in  this  way  was  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, Neiling.  Well  as  the  latter  appeared,  he  saw 
himself  no  match  for  Gray,  and  a  very  dark  frown 
settled  upon  his  countenance  as  he  beheld  the  hand- 
some rider.  Gray  saw  him  at  the  same  time,  but 
affected  not  to  recognize  him,  and  would  have  kept 
up  the  pretense  to  the  end  if  Neiling  had  not  finally 
reined  his  animal  in  front  of  him,  so  as  to  completely 
bar  the  way,  at  a  point  on  the  Row  where  the  two 
were  nearly  alone. 

"  Oh,  don't  pretend  not  to  know  me!"  he  said, 
provokingly.  "  I  only  want  to  understand  your 
game.  Say,  what  are  you  up  to  ?" 


"  THEN   THERE'S  A  FATHER,  TOO  ?"  67 

"  I  am  attending  to  my  own  business,"  was  the 
sharp  reply,  "  and  I  wish  you  to  attend  to  yours." 

" Naw  /"  drawled  the  other,  with  a  cunning  leer. 
"  Not  quite  so  nearly  a  beggar  as  you  were  the  other 
day,  are  you  ?  There  must  have  been  a  sudden  turn 
in  your  affairs.  You  didn't  even  come  after  the 
centimes  you  were  so  good  as  to  dun  me  for." 

The  wrath  of  the  other  was  slowly  rising.  He 
could  not  trust  himself  to  make  any  reply,  lest  hi$ 
temper  should  get  the  better  of  him  and  provoke  a 
scene  not  to  be  desired.  So  he  whirled  his  animal 
about  and  galloped  away  without  a  single  word. 
He  felt  that  he  should  do  that  man  a  mischief  if  they- 
kept  getting  thrown  together,  and  for  the  next  few- 
days  he  took  his  rides  in  Regent's  Park,  to  escape  a 
disagreeable  meeting. 

About  a  fortnight  from  the  time  when  he  first  went 
to  live  at  Mr.  Yates'  apartments,  Gray  found  seated 
with  that  gentleman  one  evening,  at  a  rather  late 
hour,  an  elderly  man  of  disconsolate  and  dejected 
mien,  who  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  very  dimly- 
lighted  room,  and  answered,  when  presented  to  the 
young  man,  in  curt  monosyllables.  He  was  tall,  and 
slightly  bent,  and  his  hair  and  beard  were  grizzled, 
but  beyond  this  Gilbert  could  have  testified  nothing 
in  regard  to  his  appearance,  had  he  been  put  on  oath 
the  next  morning. 

Mr.  Yates  requested  Gray  to  sit  down,  and 
engaged  him  in  a  conversation  that  lasted  half  an 
hour  or  so,  quite  as  if  there  were  no  third  party  in 
the  room.  They  talked  of  a  wide  range  of  matters, 
mainly  related  to  foreign  travel,  and  Gray  was  led  to 
speak  of  the  places  he  had  visited,  Mr.  Yiites  con- 


68  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

tenting  himself  with  questions.  When  he  left  to  go 
to  his  rooms,  for  it  was  evident  that  the  stranger  had 
some  further  business  to  transact,  the  solicitor 
followed  him  to  the  door  with  an  engaging  smile, 
and  said  in  a  whisper  that  his  client  had  a  raging 
toothache  and  must  be  excused  for  his  taciturnity  ; 
to  which  Gilbert  made  a  courteous  reply  and  bade 
them  both  good-night. 

At  first  it  seemed  like  imagination  and  then  it 
became  a  certainty  that  the  client  with  the  toothache 
had  thrown  off  his  silence  and  was  engaged  in  talk- 
ing not  only  volubly,  but  loudly,  to  the  barrister. 
Gray  tried  not  to  hear  them.  It  was  no  affair  of  his 
if  Mr.  Yates,  for  any  reason,  had  misrepresented  the 
condition  of  his  now  ungovernable  friend.  But,  in 
spite  of  him,  expressions  were  wafted  across  the 
corridor  and  through  the  keyholes  that  showed  a 
state  of  mind  on  the  part  of  the  gentleman  not  to  be 
envied.  Gray  could  hear  the  gentler  expostulations 
of  Mr.  Yates,  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  suc- 
ceeded in  calming  his  companion,  who  acted  more 
like  one  demented  than  a  sane  human  being. 

"  I  hope  you  weren't  disturbed,"  said  the  solicitor 
the  next  day,  referring  to  the  affair.  "  The  old  gen- 
tleman's tooth  got  worse  after  you  left  us  and  his 
groans  were  so  loud  I  was  afraid  you  would  hear 
him." 

"  No,  I  went  to  sleep  at  once,"  said  Gilbert,  think- 
ing that  it  was  time  he  did  his  share  of  the  lying. 

And  he  looked  so  honest  that  Mr.  Yates  accepted 
the  statement  without  reserve,  and  seemed  corre- 
spondingly relieved. 


"YOU'LL  BE  REQUIRED  TO  MARBY."  69 

CHAPTER  VII. 
"YOU'LL  BE  REQUIRED  TO  MARRY." 

WHEN  three  weeks  had  elapsed  since  Gilbert  Gray 
became  a  resident  of  Mr.  Yates'  chambers,  the  solici- 
tor thought  it  time  to  divulge  the  reasons  that  had 
actuated  him  in  his  singular  conduct.  The  young 
man  had  carried  himself  with  ease  and  grace  in  his 
new  position.  At  the  club  on  whose  books  he  had 
been  temporarily  inscribed  he  was  regarded  as  a 
most  desirable  companion.  The  number  of  his  new 
friends  was  only  limited  by  the  list  of  introductions 
received.  Once  or  twice  he  had  accompanied  Mr. 
Yates  to  private  houses,  where  he  acquitted  himself, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  with  full  credit.  The 
solicitor  wanted  a  young  gentleman  of  good  appear- 
ance and  education,  who  would  do  no  discredit  to 
any  circle  of  life,  and  he  congratulated  himself  that 
he  had  found  him. 

"  You  are  doubtless  still  in  a  state  of  wonder  as  to 
what  this  all  means,"  he  said,  one  night,  when  they 
were  riding  home  from  a  brilliant  party  at  one  of 
tfae  swellest  London  houses. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gilbert.  "  Are  you  going  to  tell 
me  ?" 

The  solicitor  looked  askance  at  his  companion. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  cautiously.  "  Let  me,  how- 
ever, ask  you  in  the  first  place  if  you  are  tired  of  the 
life  you  are  leading." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head  decidedly. 


70  LOVE  GONE   ASTRAY 

"And  you  would,  perhaps,  prefer  to  have  it  con- 
tinue indefinitely,  rather  than  return  to  the  one  you 
were  following  when  I  met  you  in  Hyde  Park." 

A  ghastly  shade  came  upon  the  young  face  at  the 
mere  suggestion. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  not  waiting  for  a 
more  definite  reply.  "  Well,  Mr.  Gray,  I  have  a  pro- 
posal that  only  requires  acceptance,  and  then  as 
pleasant  a  life  as  you  have  passed  with  me — yes,  a 
much  pleasanter  one — is  yours  for  the  rest  of  your 
days." 

A  dim  recollection  came  to  the  younger  man  of  a 
story  he  had  read,  in  which  the  devil  demanded  the 
soul  of  a  mortal  in  exchange  for  all  earthly  blessings. 
He  wondered  if  beneath  the  dress  coat  of  the  solici- 
tor a  pronged  tail  was  concealed,  and  if,  within  his 
patent  leather  boots,  there  were  hoofs  instead  ol 
feet. 

"  I  am  listening,"  he  answered,  catching  his  breath, 

"  To  come  at  once  to  the  point,  then,  you  will  be 
required  to  marry." 

Gilbert  caught  his  breath  again. 

"  An  antiquated,  vinegar-faced  old  maid  ?"  he 
asked,  with  a  shiver. 

"  On  the  contrary,  a  young  and  very  beautiful 
girl." 

"With  some  terrible  mental  defect  ?" 

"  No,  with  a  bright  brain  and  an  affable  disposi- 
tion." 

The  breathing  grew  easier.  To  marry  such  a  girl 
and  still  enjoy  life  was  a  conceivable  possibility. 

"  I  am  listening,"  he  said,  again. 

"  This  young  girl  will  inherit  a  fortune.     Her  hus« 


"YOU'LL  BE  REQUIRED  TO  MAKBT."  71 

band  will  be  placed  beyond  want  at  the  beginning  of 
his  married  life.  The  family  is  highly  respectable. 
Is — is  there  anything  else  that  you  wish  to  know  ?" 

Mr.  Gray  was  staring  with  all  his  might  out  of  the 
carriage  window. 

"  It  is  very  mysterious,"  he  remarked. 

To  this  the  solicitor  assented  with  a  bow. 

"  When  must  the  wedding  take  place  ?" 

"  Immediately." 

"  This  year  ?" 

"  To-morrow." 

There  was  a  gasp  that  savored  of  alarm,  and  then 
the  youth  relapsed  into  deep  thought.  What  could  it 
mean?  Something  had  not  yet  been  told  him.  There 
was  some  reason  undivulged.  To  marry  a  pretty 
girl  with  a  fortune  was  not  a  fate  men  usually  strug- 
gled to  avoid.  Nor  was  it  necessary  to  inveigle  a 
man  into  society  on  semi-false  pretenses,  to  find  one 
who  would  accept  the  hand  of  such  a  lady. 

But,  to  look  at  the  other  side  of  the  question,  what 
would  result  from  declining  this  offer  ?  Simply  to  be 
turned  out  into  the  street,  with  ten  pounds  "  advance 
wages  "  in  his  pocket,  and  starvation  to  face  again. 
It  was  clearly  a  case  where  a  gift  horse  must  not  be 
looked  too  closely  in  the  mouth. 

And  yet  he  felt  how  thoroughly  this  plan,  if  carried 
out,  would  affect  all  his  future — that  future  for  which, 
in  happier  days,  he  had  built  up  a  dreamland  home 
by  the  side  of  some  woman  whose  love  he  had  won 
and  whose  hand  he  had  gained  in  no  such  way  as 
this.  He  began  to  talk  to  Mr.  Yates  of  the  ideallic 
marriage  he  had  had  in  mind,  of  the  sacredness  of 
that  association  and  its  importance  upon  character. 


72  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAY. 

And  even  as  he  talked  the  ridiculousness  of  the  argu- 
ment overcame  him,  when  it  was  compared  with  the 
penniless  situation  in  which  he  was  placed,  that  situ- 
ation into  which  he  had  been  so  unexpectedly 
plunged  and  which  altered  everything. 

"  Do  you  accept  ?"  was  the  business-like  question 
with  which  the  smiling  Mr.  Yates  met  these  vagaries 
when  the  speaker  came  to  an  end  of  them. 

"Accept!"  echoed  Gilbert,  with  a  start.  "Per- 
haps, after  all,  I  shall  do  so.  If  you  would  only  give 
me  a  day  or  two — to  think." 

"Not  an  hour  ;  it  is  impossible." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Gray,  breathing  deeply,  and 
after  a  long  pause,  "unless  there  is  some  reason — 
stronger  than  any  you  have  advanced — why  I  should 
not,  I — I — yes,  I  accept." 

The  gloved  hand  of  the  solicitor  strayed  over  and 
clasped  his  with  a  motion  that  indicated  eminent  sat- 
isfaction. 

"  It  would  be  idle  for  me  to  attempt  to  convince 
you,"  he  said,  "  that  the  proposition  I  have  made  is 
exactly  what  it  appears  on  its  face.  You  have  di- 
vined that  there  is  a  thorn  with  the  rose,  a  fly  in  the 
soup,  as  the  French  say,  that  makes  the  matter  a  lit- 
tle more  unpalatable  than  it  yet  looks.  Heiresses 
with  handsome  faces  and  intelligent  minds  are  not 
disposed  of  ordinarily  in  this  manner.  They  are 
pursued,  on  the  contrary,  by  a  legion  of  admirers, 
from  which  it  is  difficult  to  choose  the  most  eligible. 
A  young  man  without  a  sou,  with  no  friends  to  speak 
of,  and  with  no  better  prospect  in  life  than  to  secure, 
at  the  best,  some  petty  clerkship,  is  not,  to  put  it 
plainly,  the  sort  of  mate  commonly  selected  for  these 


"YOU'LL  BE  REQUIRED  TO  MARRY.''  73 

positions.  It  is  necessary,  at  this  stage,  for  me  to 
speak  plainly,  and  I  trust  you  will  not  misunderstand 
my  motives." 

Mr.  Gray  swallowed  the  bitter  pill  as  best  he 
might.  He  could  not  dispute  that  the  portrait 
drawn  fitted  him  exactly. 

"  I  have  taken  a  liking  to  you/'  pursued  the  other, 
after  a  momentary  pause,  "and  it  will  be  a  pleasure 
to  me,  in  addition  to  any  professional  satisfaction,  if 
I  can  put  you  into  the  comfortable  circumstances  for 
which  your  nature  is  so  well  adapted.  There  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  fight  your  way  in  a  cold  and 
cruel  world  when  ease  and  comfort  may  be  yours. 
At  the  same  time  there  is,  as  you  must  guess,  a  fea- 
ture to  this  marriage  that  you  might  prefer  did  not 
exist.  When  you  hear  what  it  is,  do  not  flv  into  a 
state  of  excitement,  but  deliberate  on  the  matter 
calmly.  The  chance  is  one  that  will  not  be  likely  to 
occur  again  in  your  lifetime.  It  is  yours  to  accept 
or  reject — and  the  opportunity  is  for  to-night  only.'"1 

Into  the  seething  brain  of  the  young  man  there 
came  the  most  preposterous  reasons,  as  possible 
ones  in  this  strange  affair  ;  but  nothing  agreeing 
with  Mr.  Yates*  statements  could  be  found  that 
seemed  in  the  least  degree  tenable. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  laconically,  bracing  himself  for 
the  revelation. 

"  It  is  this,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  slowly  and  distinctly  : 
"The  young  lady,  if  she  becomes  your  wife,  will 
probably  present  you  with  an  heir  within  a  period 
somewhat  less  than  that  ordinarily  expected  in  such 
cases." 


14c  LOVK    GONB    ASTRAY. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   VERY    BLUNT    REFUSAL. 

THE  first  impression  of  Mr.  Gray  was  to  strike  the 
man  who  coolly  uttered  these  words,  which  he  felt 
contained  a  burning  insult  to  himself.  The  next  idea 
was  to  open  the  carriage  door  and  spring  to  the 
ground,  ridding  himself  of  a  companion  capable  of 
such  an  outrage.  But  before  he  could  execute  either 
of  these  things  a  faintness  overcame  him,  and  he  lay 
back  against  the  carriage  cushions,  helpless.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  been  offered  a  drink  of  cool  water  and 
had  found  a  bitter  and  nauseous  draught  when  the 
cup  was  pressed  to  his  lips. 

This  it  was  that  stood  between  him  and  beggary  ! 
This  ! 

"  I  did  not  suppose  it  would  be  agreeable  to  you," 
pursued  the  quiet  voice  of  the  solicitor.  "  In  itself 
it  bears  a  harsh  front ;  but  as  an  alternative  proposi- 
tion it  looks  somewhat  different.  The  young  lady  of 
whom  I  speak  has  made  one  slip,  which  may  be  kept 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  world.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  a  moment  of  madness,  for  which  even  she 
cannot  account,  she  has,  I  am  sure,  led  a  pure  and 
creditable  life.  There  were  only  two  persons  to 
whom  she  dared  confide  her  grief,  and  the  pain  it 
would  give  to  either  of  them  I  leave  you  to  imagine. 
To  her  mother,  already  in  delicate  health,  it  might 
mean  instant  death.  To  her  father,  a  man  of  the 
highest  reputation,  and  as  jealous  of  his  honor  as  one 


A   VEKY   BLUNT    REFUSAL.  75 

can  conceive,  it  must  be  a  blow  compared  to  which 
there  is  no  other  conceivable.  He  has  brought  her 
up  delicately,  with  the  best  of  teachers,  as  free  ap- 
parently from  danger  of  this  kind  as  an  angel  in 
Paradise.  Her  mother  has  been  her  most  constant 
friend  and  the  girl  had  never  shown  the  least  par- 
tiality for  the  opposite  sex,  so  far  as  they  knew. 
Nevertheless,  the  deed  was  done,  and  when  she  went 
in  terror  to  this  father  and  told  him  the  truth,  he 
came  at  once  to  me,  I  being  his  legal  adviser.  I 
have  never  seen  a  human  being  in  such  mental 
agony." 

In  spite  of  himself  Mr.  Gray  was  listening,  and 
with  the  deepest  interest,  to  this  remarkable  story. 
He  began  even  to  excuse  the  narrator  for  the  part  he 
had  taken  in  beguiling  him  into  this  net,  from  which 
he  would  presently  make  good  his  escape. 

"  Aged  ten  years  in  one  hour,"  continued  Mr. 
Yates,  "this  old  man  told  me,  as  men  tell  things  to 
lawyers  and  to  priests,  of  the  curse  that  had  fallen 
on  his  house.  As  was  my  duty,  I  tried  to  mitigate 
the  effects  of  the  injury  by  suggesting  ways  to  lessen 
the  force  of  the  blow.  I  said  we  could  take  the 
guilty  one  in  hand  and  make  him  right  his  wrong,  as 
far  as  was  possible,  at  the  marriage  altar.  To  this 
the  father  responded,  in  the  most  vehement  manner, 
that  he  would  rather  see  his  child  in  her  grave,  and 
himself  with  her,  than  to  own  as  a  son-in-law  a 
wretch  who  had  perpetrated  such  a  crime  against 
them.  He  believed  the  fellow  had  proceeded  delib- 
erately, with  this  expectation  in  view,  and  had 
hoped  to  attain  by  chicanery  to  a  position  he  could 
never  reach  in  a  straightforward  and  honest  manner. 


76  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

The  father  disposed  of  him  in  one  torrent  of  vituper- 
ation, and  I  saw  that  further  talk  on  that  score  was 
useless,  even  had  I  thought,  from  my  own  stand- 
point, after  what  I  knew,  that  it  was  advisable." 

The  carriage  was  approaching  Mr.  Yates'  home, 
and  he  called  to  the  driver  to  make  a  detour,  to  pro- 
long the  journey.  He  then  looked  narrowly  at 
young  Gray,  who  lay  quite  still,  to  see  if  he  was  pay- 
ing attention,  and  finding  that  he  was,  proceeded 
cautiously,  as  if  addressing  a  jury  on  whose  verdict 
his  entire  case  depended  : 

"  There  was  another  proposition,  at  which  I 
vaguely  hinted,  and  which  I  was  relieved  to  have 
rejected  as  quickly  as  the  first.  I  found  a  good  deal 
of  determination  in  this  old  man,  in  spite  of  the  hurt 
he  had  received.  When  we  had  discussed  the  matter 
for  several  hours  he  announced  his  ultimatum. 
Either  his  daughter  should  be  taken  to  some  se- 
cluded place  and  remain  till  the  birth  of  her  child, 
which  he  would  amply  provide  for,  or — and  this  al- 
ternative he  came  to  but  slowly  and  by  my  sugges- 
tion— she  should  marry  some  respectable  man  who 
had  a  full  knowledge  of  her  condition  and  accepted 
her  accordingly.  In  the  latter  case  there  must  be 
arranged  a  pretended  marriage  of  an  earlier  date, 
while  for  the  public  must  be  prepared  the  tale  of  a 
romance  with  love  at  its  base,  something  the  world 
always  forgives  when  the  nine  days'  wondering  is 
over. '  There  was  the  mother  to  consider — a  woman 
devoted  to  her  child,  and  full  of  womanly  instincts 
that  would  excuse  any  act  that  came  within  the  pale 
of  law  and  conduced  to  her  daughter's  happiness. 


A  VERY   BLUNT    KEFU8AL.  77 

It  was  to  be  this,  or  nothing,  and  the  father  left  me 
to  see  what  I  could  do. 

"  In  the  language  of  the  shop  it  seemed  a  difficult 
order  to  fill.  My  sympathy  for  my  client  and  his 
unhappy  child  nerved  me  to  make  the  strongest  ef- 
forts in  their  behalf.  I  had  an  interview  with  the  girl, 
and  found  her  perfectly  amenable  to  the  paternal 
will — ready  to  do  anything  required,  and  only  anx- 
ious that  her  mother  should  be  kept  at  all  costs  from 
a  knowledge  of  the  trouble.  She  had  evidently  ex- 
perienced her  share  of  suffering — more  on  account  of 
others,  even,  than  for  herself.  I  told  her  my  plans, 
admitting  that  I  raight  not  .be  able  to  carry  them 
out,  and  she  acquiesced  in  their  wisdom.  Then  I 
began  to  look  about  for  the  young  man  who  should 
wed  her,  and  I  found  it  easier  than  I  had  imagined 
to  arrange  that  part  of  the  programme." 

The  silent  figure  in  the  carriage  raised  its  head, 
and  the  startled  eyes  interrogated  those  of  the  solic- 
itor. 

"  I  found,"  explained  Mr.  Yates,  "  that  there  were 
plenty  of  young  men  in  London,  of  good  birth  and 
education,  and  of  empty  pockets,  who  would  jump 
at  a  chance  to  make  a  marriage  of  this  sort.  Several 
of  them  I  tried,  with  a  hypothetical  recital  of  the 
case,  and  in  every  instance  their  answers  convinced 
me  that  no  time  would  be  lost  in  case  I  settled  upon 
either.  With  this  knowledge  I  dispatched  an  assist- 
ant to  a  distant  place,  where  he  was  able  to  secure, 
for  a  small  bribe,  the  promise  of  a  certificate  that  Mr. 
Blank  and  Miss  Dash  were  married  there  in  Septem- 
ber last,  whenever  he  should  be  able  to  send  in  the 
names.  We  shall  thus  save  the  reputation  of  the 


78  LOTS   GONE  ASTRAY. 

husband  and  wife  from  assaults  of  the  spiteful  or  the 
envious  ;  and  the  facts  in  relation  to  the  offspring 
will  be  known  only  to  the  family  and  to  myself,  for  I 
have  concealed  and  shall,  until  the  latest  moment, 
the  names  of  the  persons  involved. 

"  Now,  to  be  very  candid  with  you,  Mr.  Gray,  yoa 
are  the  only  man  I  have  in  mind  to  whom  I  am 
wholly  satisfied  to  give  my  fair  young  client  and  her 
future.  I  regard  you  as  an  honorable  gentleman 
who  would  conduct  yourself  in  a  proper  manner, 
and  bring  a  true  and  loyal  support  to  your  plighted 
word.  If  you  will  reflect  a  little  I  think  the  situa- 
tion will  not  seem  wholly  bad.  To  do  what  I  sug- 
gest would  be  to  bring  sunshine  into  a  blighted  life, 
to  temper  the  anguish  of  an  unhappy  father  and  per- 
haps to  save  from  death  a  loving  mother.  It  would 
assure  you  of  a  sufficient  income,  with  ability  to 
follow  your  tastes  as  to  living  in  America  or  abroad, 
and  in  time,  I  truly  believe,  would  make  you  a  con- 
tented family  man,  no  worse  off  in  actual  condition 
than  if  you  had  married  a  young  widow.  It  is  for  you 
to  say.  As  I  told  you,  there  is  no  longer  time  for 
temporizing.  Your  marriage  must  take  place  at 
once,  if  ever." 

The  driver,  thinking  that  the  inmates  of  the  car- 
riage ought  to  have  finished  their  conversation  by 
this  time,  had  resumed  his  way  toward  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Yates  and  now  paused  before  the  door. 

"  Well,"  asked  the  man  of  law,  "  is  it  yes  or  no  ?" 

"  It  is  no  /"  was  the  hoarse  reply.  "  No  !  by  all 
means,  no  !  And  I  want  to  add  that  you  will  not  find 
me  at  your  rooms  when  you  come  in  the  morning, 
I  shall  pack  up  and  leave  at  once." 


A   VERT   BLUNT    REFUSAL.  79 

M I  am  disappointed,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  and  he  looked 
it  thoroughly.  "  Well,  that  settles  it  then,"  he  added 
with  a  sigh.  "  Remember,  there  is  two  weeks'  salary 
due  you." 

"  I  shall  not  take  it,"  said  Gray,  coldly.  "  If  it  is 
ever  in  my  power  to  return  what  you  have  advanced 
I  shall  do  that.  I  wish  I  could  express  how  mean 
and  low  I  feel  when  I  reflect  on  the  time  I  have  spent 
with  you,  and  think  what  its  object  was.  I  shall  go 
now  to  toil  or  to  starvation  with  a  lighter  heart,  when 
I  think  how  much  worse  a  fate  might  have  been 
mine." 

Mr.  Yates  alighted,  and  simply  gave  the  right  direc- 
tion to  the  cabman,  into  whose  hand  he  pressed  a  sum 
in  excess  of  the  fare.  There  was  no  use  in  talking  to  a 
man  in  that  mood.  Gray  was  driven  to  the  home  he 
had  been  occupying,  and  as  he  walked  up  the  stairs  he 
found  himself  staggering  against  the  wainscot.  He 
was  cold.  His  hand  trembled  as  he  pushed  the  key 
into  its  aperture.  His  rooms  were  well  heated,  but 
he  shivered  still.  There  was  a  fire  in  a  grate  and 
he  sat  down  close  to  it  and  tried  to  warm  himself. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  pack  his  effects,  and  when 
the  trunk  and  bags  were  locked  and  strapped,  and 
the  other  things  laid  conveniently  for  moving,  Gray 
found  himself  not  the  least  inclined  for  sleep.  He 
therefore  decided  to  walk  for  an  hour  or  so,  thinking 
that  exercise  might  compose  his  perturbed  brain. 

Wrapped  in  a  greatcoat  he  sallied  into  Oxford 
street,  and  strolled  at  random  toward  the  City,  pay* 
ing  little  attention  to  the  sights  about  him.  The  late 
stayers  among  the  sisterhood  that  infests  that  locality 
after  midnight  gave  him  plenty  of  invitations  to  ac» 


80  LQTE  GONE   ASTRAY. 

company  them  to  warmer  quarters,  but  he  paid  no 
heed.  At  another  time  they  would  have  disgusted 
him,  but  to-night,  when  he  had  been  on  the  brink  of 
selling  himself ,  he  could  not  too  deeply  blame  them 
for  engaging  in  a  like  occupation. 

With  his  collar  turned  up  about  his  ears  and  his 
hat  well  drawn  over  his  eyes  he  went  on  and  on,  until 
he  had  reached  the  vicinity  of  Newgate. 

The  snow  began  to  fall,  gently.  From  a  small 
hotel  he  saw  a  couple  emerge,  and  heard  a  hasty 
good-night  exchanged  as  they  separated  at  the  door- 
way, logo  in  opposite  directions.  The  man,  who  was 
elegantly  dressed,  whistled  for  a  passing  cab  and  was 
driven  away,  leaving  his  companion  alone. 

The  woman  walked  slowly,  looking  about  as  if  ex- 
pecting some  one,  and  presently  a  second  man  came 
out  of  the  shadow  of  a  building  and  walked  up  to 
her. 

"  How  much  ?"  he  asked,  laconically,  holding  out 
his  hand. 

"  Four  pounds,**  was  the  answer,  in  a  disappointed 
voice. 

"  I  told  you  to  insist  on  five  !"  said  the  man,  angrily. 

**  He  would  not  give  it.     I  did  the  best  I  could." 

"Ugh  !  What  an  idiot  you  are  !"  was  the  ungra- 
cious response,  as  the  speaker  took  the  money. 
"'Well,  I've  no  time  to  lose.  I'll  see  you  in  the 
morning." 

He  was  turning  away,  apparently  in  great  haste, 
when  the  woman  spoke  again  : 

"  Am  I  to  walk  home  ?     I  haven't  a  shilling." 

With  an  expression  that  sounded  like  a  curse  the 
man  took  a  piece  of  silver  from  his  pocket  and 


A   VERT   BLUNT    REFUSAL.  81 

shoved  it  into  her  hand.  The  movement  was  so 
abrupt  that  the  woman  staggered  with  the  force  of 
it.  Then  he  left  her. 

Gilbert  Gray  could  not  doubt  the  full  significance 
of  the  proceeding  he  had  witnessed.  The  man  was 
one  of  those  creatures  who  live  on  the  illegal  earn- 
ings of  immoral  women,  and  he  had  taken  from  his 
mistress  the  wage  for  which  she  had  just  sacrificed 
her  womanliness  and  her  honor.  She  had  given  it  to 
him  not  unwillingly,  only  making  a  slight  protest 
when  he  left  her  to  walk  through  the  streets  at  one 
o'clock  at  night  for  want  of  a  cab  fare.  It  was  a 
proceeding  Gray  had  heard  of  before,  but  of  which  ha 
had  always  entertained  some  doubt.  Stunned  by  the 
scene,  he  was  walking  on  in  a  sort  of  daze,  when  the 
woman,  who  had  no  suspicion  that  her  recent  actions 
had  been  noticed  by  him,  hastened  on  his  track. 

"  It  is  a  cold  night,  sir,"  she  said. 

He  walked  faster  ;  but  she  caught  up  with  him, 
and  for  nearly  a  minute  dinned  into  his  ears  invita- 
tions that  filled  him  with  horror.  At  last  he  saw  a 
policeman  in  the  distance,  and  stopping  short,  threat- 
ened to  give  her  into  custody  if  she  did  not  leave  him 
at  once. 

The  startled  look  of  the  woman  when  he  uttered 
these  words  made  him  sorry  that  he  had  spoken  so 
sharply.  He  drew  out  a  half  sovereign — though  he 
had  little  enough  to  spare — and  told  her  to  take  it. 
She  reached  for  the  money  with  an  avidity  that  was 
astonishing,  and  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  hunger 
or  some  equally  strong  reason.  Then,  with  a  search- 
ing look  at  his  face,  she  vanished  up  one  of  the  sid* 
streets. 


82  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

And  Gilbert  Gray  went  back  to  his  temporary 
lodging,  wondering  if  he  could  trust  his  eyes  and  his 
ears.  For  the  man  he  had  seen  lying  in  wait  for 
this  poor  creature,  and  taking  her  shameful  earnings 
to  the  last  penny,  was  none  other  than  the  one  he 
had  rescued  in  Venice  and  encountered  again  in 
Rome,  the  elegant  rider  he  so  recently  met  in 
the  Park,  his  old  acquaintance,  Neiling. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  SHALL  IT  BE  YOU — OR  HE  f 

NATURE  had  its  way  with  him  before  lie  was  aware 
of  it,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  When  he  awoke 
it  was  past  eight  o'clock,  and  the  room  was  brightly 
illuminated  with  the  wintry  sun. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  wonderingly,  as  he  realized 
what  must  have  occurred,  and  was  about  to  go  to 
the  street  to  summon  a  cab,  when  he  heard  a  familiar 
voice  in  the  outer  entry. 

"  How  early  do  you  expect  Mr.  Yates  ?"  asked  the 
voice. 

"About  half-past  nine,"  was  the  reply  of  the  do- 
mestic addressed. 

"I  must  see  him  sooner,"  said  the  first  voice. 
"Give  me  his  house  address." 

"  He  never  transacts  business  at  his  house,"  said 
the  domestic,  "and  I  have  orders  to  give  the  address 
to  no  one." 


"  SHALL   IT   BE   YOU — OR   HE  ?"  83 

There  was  an  angry  and  impatient  exclamation  at 
this. 

"I  shall  find  it,  in  some  way,"  said  the  stranger. 
*  If  I  do  not,  I  shall  be  here  again  within  an  hour." 

Would  the  gentleman  leave  his  card  ? 

No,  the  gentleman  would  not.  The  gentleman 
fceemed  in  an  ill  temper,  and  in  great  haste,  for  he 
went  out  with  a  slam  of  the  door  that  shook  the 
building. 

Mr.  Gray  had  risen  from  the  chair  in  which  he 
slept,  and  stood  staring  in  the  direction  from  which 
these  sounds  proceeded.  The  voice  he  had  heard 
was  a  familiar  one.  Good  heaven  !  How  could  that 
man  appear  at  every  turn  in  his  path  ! 

It  was  tolerably  clear.  Neiling  was  one  of  those 
"eligible  young  gentlemen  "  whom  Mr.  Yates  had 
selected  as  possible  partners  for  his  fair  client. 
Such  a  fate  for  the  poor  girl  was  too  horrible. 
Gray  seized  a  sheet  of  note  paper  and  wrote  rapidly  : 

"  DEAR  MR.  YATES  : — See  me,  without  fail,  before 
you  make  any  arrangement  in  the  matter  of  which 
we  were  speaking.  I  shall  wait  in  my  room  till 
you  come.  Do  not  fail  to  heed  this. 

"Yours,  G.  G." 

"  Take  that  as  fast  as  you  can  ride  to  Mr.  Yates,' 
he  said,  when  the  domestic  answered  his  bell.  "  Put 
it  into  his  hands  yourself." 

It  was  only  half  an  hour  before  the  domestic  re- 
turned, bringing  the  message  that  Mr.  Yates  would 
be  at  his  office  as  soon  as  possible.  Gilbert  fumed 


84  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

and  fretted,  however,  as  the  time  dragged  on.  He 
had  come  to  feel  that  the  prevention  of  a  crime  lay 
in  his  hands.  The  character  of  Neiling  had  pre- 
sented itself  to  him  so  vilely  that  he  could  not  en- 
dure the  thought  that  a  young  girl  of  the  sort  the 
solicitor  had  described — repentant  of  her  one  fault — 
should  be  condemned  to  such  a  life  partnership.  It 
would  be  even  better  to  endure  the  pangs  of  un- 
wedded  motherhood,  to  face  the  cruel  world  with 
her  guilt  exposed  than  to  marry  such  a  man  as  that. 
The  hour  before  the  solicitor  came  seemed  intermin- 
able to  the  young  man,  and  when  he  at  last  arrived 
there  was  no  time  lost  in  coming  to  the  point. 

"  You  are  surprised  to  find  me  still  here,"  began 
Gray,  when  he  had  closed  the  door  to  shut  out  pos- 
sible intruders.  "That  can  be  explained  in  a 
moment.  After  packing  my  effects  with  the  inten- 
tion of  leaving  at  daylight,  I  fell  asleep  in  that  chair 
and  did  not  awake  until  eight  o'clock.  When  I 
opened  my  eyes  the  first  sound  that  I  heard  was  a 
voice  In  the  corridor,  talking  to  your  servant.  I 
recognized  it  as  that  of  the  man  you  saw  me  talking 
with  in  the  Park  the  day  you  first  met  me,  and  I 
drew  my  own  conclusions." 

He  paused,  nearly  out  of  breath,  and  the  solici- 
tor's pleasant  face  assumed  an  air  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"What  were  your  conclusions  ?"  he  asked,  rather 
coldly. 

"  That  this  fellow  was  one  of  those  you  were  con- 
sidering as  a  husband  to  your  client's  daughter," 
said  Gilbert,  with  directness.  "  And  if  that  were 
true ' 


,      *8HA.LL   IT   BE   YOU — OR   HE?"  85 

Mr.  Yates  raised  his  hand  in  interruption. 

"Wait  a  minute!"  he  said.  "I  think  this  is 
farther  than  you  have  a  right  to  go." 

"  In  one  sense,  yes,"  replied  the  young  man,  red- 
dening. "  Nor  have  I  any  wish  to  interfere  in  your 
business.  But  I  appeal  to  you,  as  an  honorable 
gentleman?  which  I  have  never  doubted  you  to  be, 
to  consider  the  chances  of  happiness  of  a  woman 
joined  to  a  man  so  utterly  destitute  of  principle  !" 

"  Oh,  there  are  worse  men  then  he,"  repeated  the 
solicitor,  thoughtfully.  "  You  don't  know  anything 
really  criminal  against  him." 

Gray  hesitated  an  instant  ;  but  too  much  was  at 
stake  now  for  trifles,  and  he  told  what  he  had  seen 
the  previous  night. 

A  sarcastic  smile  crossed  the  solicitor's  face,  as  he 
listened,  a  smile  of  the  kind  that  was  not  common 
there. 

"You  take  remarkable  interest  in  a  girl  you  felt 
insulted  by  being  mentioned  with,  a  few  hours  ago," 
said  he. 

**  I  may  seem  inconsistent,"  was  the  answer,  "  but 
I  hope  I  am  not  so.  When  you  told  me  of  her  situa- 
tion and  asked  me  to  share  her  shame  I  was,  I 
admit,  shocked.  I  felt  that  you  had  formed  an 
opinion  of  me  altogether  too  low,  and  that  I  had 
done  nothing  to  merit  the  estimate.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  had  and  still  have  the  utmost  sympathy 
and  would  do  anything  in  my  power  to  help  her. 
If  there  are  others,  in  this  city  of  London,  with  a 
less  fine  sense  of  propriety,  who  are  willing  to  sacri- 
fice themselves  in  consideration  of  the  emoluments 
to  be  gained,  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  the  plan 


86  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

you  are  to  carry  out.  I  can  conceive  a  form  of  mind 
and  a  temperament  fitted  to  such  a  union,  where 
good  might  in  the  end  result  to  all  concerned.  But 
you  must  admit,  sir,  that  it  is  not  enough  to  dis- 
cover a  man  who  will  give  this  girl  his  name.  You 
must  find  one  who  will  not  make  her  life  a  hell, 
when  by  your  aid  he  has  been  given  the  power  to 
do  so." 

The  sarcastic  smile  faded  from  the  lips  of  the 
listener  long  before  Mr.  Gray  finished.  He  was  con- 
ceiving a  new  respect  for  this  young  man,  as  well, 
perhaps,  as  an  enlarged  notion  of  his  own  responsi- 
bilities. 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  he,  "  my  time  is  getting 
short.  I  had  counted  so  absolutely  on  you — pardon 
me — that  my  choice  in  other  fields  is  reduced  to  a 
Very  limited  one.  Why  had  I  placed  so  much  reli- 
ance on  you  ?  Not,  as  you  intimate,  because  I 
thought  you  lacking  in  any  quality  that  makes  the 
gendeman,  but  because  I  candidly  believed  the 
opportunity  one  you  ought  to  embrace — ought,  I  say 
— both  in  duty  to  yourself  and  to  this  unfortunate 
young  lady.  She  has  made  one  slip,  it  is  true,  and 
what  is  worse,  the  consequences  stare  her  in  the  face. 
An  arrangement  has  been  made  by  which  conceal- 
ment of  this  error  will  be  secured  and  her  life  saved 
from  ruin.  She  is  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  give  all  her 
devotion  to  the  man  who  saves  her,  and  I  prophesy 
for  them  a  happy  and  peaceful  existence.  The 
fortune  she  will  bring  to  the  husband  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  ignored,  either.  This  is  not  an  age  of  the 
world  in  which  money  should  be  despised.  You  can 
give  some  pertinent  testimony  on  that  head.  I 


"  SHALL   IT  BE  YOU — OB   HE?"  87 

have  promised  her  father  to  introduce  him  to  the 
man  I  have  selected.  He  is  impatient  and  will  not 
5e  put  off.  So,  when  you  refused  me  so  abruptly 
last  night,  my  choice  fell  on — another  man — who,  to 
be  candid,  I  would  not  have  chosen  had  I  been  able 
to  help  it." 

Gray  pounded  the  table  restlessly  with  his  clenched 
hand. 

"And  that  choice  is  William  Neiling,  or  what 
other  name  he  may  decide  to  give  you  !"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

The  solicitor  shrugged  his  shoulders  by  way  of  re- 
ply. 

"Very  well  !"  ejaculated  Gray.  "  I  have  only  this 
to  say:  I  would  not  have  your  responsibility  for  all 
the  wealth  of  London." 

The  other  man  started  in  his  chair. 

"  There  is  another  whose  responsibility  is  greater 
than  mine,"  he  said,  impressively. 

"  Another  !"  repeated  Gilbert. 

"Yours  is  by  far  the  greater,"  said  Mr.  Yates. 
"  The  opportunity  to  save  this  girl  from  a  fate  you  so 
much  deplore  is  in  your  hands  ;  it  is  not  in  mine. 
You  are  single,  eligible,  a  mate  for  her  that  the  final 
jury — society — would  declare  perfectly  suitable.  I 
am  not  only  ten  years  too  old,  but  I  am  already  mar- 
ried. I  have  done  all  I  could  to  help  her,  much 
more,  I  assure  you,  from  sympathy,  than  from  any 
call  of  a  business  nature.  But  you,  with  this  drown- 
ing child  before  your  eyes,  refuse  to  stretch  out  your 
hand." 

Gilbert  Gray  moved  uneasily  under  this  strong  in 
dictment. 


88  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAT. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me — as  an  honest  man — that 
you  would  marry  her  if  you  were  single  ?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  If  I  were  of  your  age,  and  of  your  circumstances, 
before  God,  yes  !"  said  Mr.  Yates. 

"Ah  !"  cried  Gilbert.  "That  is  the  point,  after 
all — the  money  to  be  paid  for  the  service." 

"  Not  wholly.  This  girl  is  as  pretty  a  creature  as 
lives  at  this  moment  in  Europe.  She  is  only  eight- 
een years  of  age,  amiable,  educated,  with  every  per- 
sonal qualification.  I  am  sure,  if  the  case  had  been 
presented  to  me  at  your  age,  exactly  as  I  present  it 
to  you,  I  would  have  accepted  her  without  ques- 
tion." 

Gilbert  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"Knowing  that  she  had  so  far  forgotten  her 
honor " 

"  Knowing  everything.  A  child  like  her  may  give 
way  to  a  moment  of  impulse,  ignorant  of  results,  un- 
able to  guide  her  passions.  But  a  woman  with  that 
experience  is  safe  forever.  The  man  who  gets  her 
secures  a  pearl  that  he  will  not  need  to  watch.  He 
can  rely  on  her  gratitude,  her  affection,  her  fealty, 
as  he  could  not  on  one  with  less  incentive  to  love 
her  husband.  The  man  who  marries  this  young 
girl " 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  the  speaker,  and 
the  domestic  who  entered  presented  a  card  to  Mr. 
Yates. 

"  Ask  him  to  wait  a  few  minutes,"  said  the  solici- 
tor, in  a  low  voice.  Then,  when  they  were  again 
alone,  he  added  to  Mr.  Gray,  "This  card  is  that  of 
the  person  you  so  much  object  to." 


89 

The  young  man  rose  and  paced  the  room  uneasily. 
His  temples  were  burning.  His  nerves  were  un- 
strung. 

"  He  has  come  for  his  answer,  I  presume,"  lie  said, 
when  he  could  control  his  voice. 

Mr.  Yates  bowed  silently. 

"  And  what,"  asked  Gilbert,  pausing  before  the 
solicitor's  chair,  "  what  shall  you  tell  him  ?" 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say,"  was  the  sharp  reply. 

"For  me  ?"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  recoiling. 

"  Precisely.     It  is  to  be  one  of  you.     Which  ?" 

Gilbert  drew  a  long  breath  of  pain. 

"  The  choice  is  not  so  limited  as  that,"  he  said. 
"  You  told  me  there  were  others  that  you  had  in 
mind." 

"  They  do  not  meet  the  requirements  of  eligibil- 
ity," said  Mr.  Yates.  "No,  it  has  resolved  itself  to 
you  and  him."  He  rose  and  took  out  his  watch. 
"  I  must  give  him  his  answer." 

The  violence  of  Mr.  Gray's  feelings  were  too 
strong  for  him.  His  dilemma  pressed  with  an  over- 
powering weight.  He  sat  down  and  covered  his  eyes 
with  his  shaking  hands. 

"Come!"  said  the  solicitor.  "Is  it  to  be  you — or 
he?" 

Delay  was  the  first  thing  thought  of.  Delay,  that 
always  gives  a  chance  for  something  to  transpire. 

*'  What  is  the  very  latest  time  you  give  me  to  an- 
swer ?"  asked  Gray,  without  lifting  his  head. 

"  How  long  do  you  need  ?" 

"Give  me  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"Absolutely  impossible." 

"Till  this  evening." 


90  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

"  It  cannot  be  done.  I  will  give  you — it  is  now 
half-past  nine — I  will  give  you  till  ten." 

Mr.  Yates  was  proceeding  to  leave  the  room,  when 
the  young  man  interrupted  him  in  his  progress. 

"What  shall  you  tell  him  ?" 

**  I  shall  ask  him  to  return  in  half  an  hour." 

The  struggle  in  Gilbert  Gray's  brain  was  terrific, 
but  he  wanted  one  thing  disposed  of  then  and  there. 

"  Tell  him,"  he  ejaculated,  slowly,  "  that — he — 
need  NOT — return  /" 

Mr.  Yates  leaned  over  his  companion  and  took  both 
his  hands  in  his  own. 

"  Then  I  am  to  understand "  he  began. 

"  Yes,  yes  !     Anything  but  that  he •" 

The  smile  that  belonged  on  the  solicitor's  face 
came  back  to  it.  He  pressed  the  hands  he  held  with 
a  vice-like  grip,  and  vanished  rapidly  from  the  apart- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN    AMERICAN    GIRL. 

A  FEW  moments  later  the  ears  that  had  become 
dulled  in  some  sort  with  the  rest  of  Mr.  Gray's  senses 
heard  angry  and  half-intelligible  sounds  proceeding 
from  the  office.  Mr.  Neiling  evidently  did  not  re- 
ceive with  pleasure  the  news  that  had  been  brought 
him.  His  voice,  raised  far  above  the  usual  height, 
penetrated  the  inner  chambers.  Occasionally  the 


AN    AMERICAN    GIKL.  91 

lower  but  firm  tones  of  the  solicitor  alternated  with 
his. 

Not  wishing  to  act  the  part  of  an  eavesdropper 
Gilbert  went  to  one  of  the  windows  and  threw  it 
open,  admitting  enough  of  the  noise  of  the  street  to 
drown  the  sounds  within.  The  cold  air  blew  grate- 
fully on  his  heated  forehead.  He  felt  like  one  in  a 
dream. 

What  had  he  agreed  to  do  ?  He  hardly  knew. 
The  violence  of  his  feelings  had  driven  him  to  some- 
thing desperate.  Well,  there  was  such  a  thing  as 
Fate  !  He  had  been  buffeted  by  Fortune,  until  voli- 
tion was  no  longer  left.  The  tide  must  take  him 
whither  it  listed,  since  he  could  not  control  the  move- 
ments of  his  barque. 

As  he  stood  in  the  cooling  breeze  a  kind  of  reck- 
lessness came  in  place  of  the  old  struggle.  He  had 
given  his  word,  and  there  was  nothing  now  but  to 
act  the  role  assigned  him. 

When  Mr.  Yates  returned,  Gilbert  saw  that  he  had 
passed  through  an  unpleasant  experience.  He  was 
flushed  and  heated.  The  perspiration  dampened  the 
roots  of  the  hair  that  hung  carelessly  over  his  white 
forehead.  His  collar,  usually  the  perfection  of  neat- 
ness, was  rumpled  and  his  necktie  out  of  place. 

"  Well,  that  matter  is  disposed  of  !"  he  remarked, 
drawing  a  long  breath,  but  not  otherwise  referring  to 
the  interview  he  had  just  closed.  "  Now  for  business. 
As  so  much  time  has  been  lost  we  shall  have  to  pro- 
ceed with  celerity.  You  are  a  sensible  fellow,  and 
will,  I  am  sure,  put  nothing  in  the  way  of  finishing 
this  affair  as  rapidly  as  possible;" 

"  I  am  in  your  hands,"  said  Gilbert,  simply. 


92  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

He  was  wondering  what  had  happened  in  the  office 
to  so  affect  the  man  of  law. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  wiping  his 
brow,  "  you  would  like  to  know  the  name  of  your 
future — or  I  should  say  your  already — wedded  bride  ; 
for,  by  the  document  which  I  shall  soon  have,  you 
were  married  on  September  14,  by  the  Rev.  August 
Voorhoe,  at  Amsterdam,  to  Gladys  Eleanor,  daughter 
of  Colonel  Henry  Newcombe  of  Chicago,  Illinois." 

An  American  girl  !  Gilbert  was  glad  to  hear  that 
at  least. 

"  But,  do  you  tell  me  that  a  clergyman  has  con- 
sented to  alter  the  date  of  his  certificate  ?"  he  asked, 
astounded. 

"  In  the  interest  of  a  young  girl's  honorable  future, 
and  for  the  consideration  of  five  hundred  guilders, 
yes,"  smiled  Mr.  Yates.  "  It  is  a  little  Jesuitical,  but 
quite  right,  looked  at  from  a  broad  standpoint. 
Now,  you  would  like  to  see  a  photograph  of  the  lady 
with  whom  your  honeymoon  is  almost  ended — and 
here  you  have  it." 

He  produced  a  cabinet-sized  picture  from  his 
pocket  as  he  spoke,  and  Gray  uttered  a  slight  scream 
as  his  eyes  fell  upon  it. 

"  The  girl  I  saw  at  the  theatre — and  in  the  Park  !" 
he  cried. 

"  The  same.  Did  I  not  tell  you  she  was  beautiful  ? 
I  took  you  to  the  Park  and  theatre  to  show  to  her,  as 
I  took  others.  It  may  flatter  your  pride  when  I  add 
that  it  was  she  who  made  the  selection,  rather  than 
I,  though  we  agreed  upon  it  perfectly." 

The  young  man  stared  fixedly  at  the  portrait. 

"And  she  seemed  so  cold,"  he  said.     "  So  entirely 


AN   AMERICAN   GIRL.  93 

different  from  what  one  would  imagine.  I  am  dumb- 
founded at  the  idea  that  this  can  possibly  be  the  pic- 
ture of  a  girl  who  has  passed  through  such  experi- 
ences." 

The  solicitor  was  recovering  his  equanimity,  so 
pleased  was  he  at  the  final  ripening  of  his  long- 
cherished  plans. 

"You  must  remember,"  he  replied,  "that  Miss 
Newcombe  has  had  enough  to  dampen  her  spirits 
and  give  her  the  reserved  look  you  mistook  for  cold- 
ness. During  the  past  two  months  she  has  suffered 
intensely.  It  will  be  your  pleasant  duty  to  drive 
that  clpud  from  her  face.  When  the  news  of  her 
secret  wedding  has  been  imparted  to  her  mother, 
and  that  shock  is  ended,  I  think  you  will  find  the 
natural  brightness  of  her  disposition  returning.  Of 
course,  much  will  depend  upon  the  judgment  with 
which  you  treat  her,  but  the  worst  should  be  over  in 
a  week  from  to-day." 

Mr.  Gray  asked,  hesitatingly,  and  with  a  deep 
blush,  when  the  birth  of  the  child  was  expected  to 
take  place. 

"  The  last  of  next  June,"  was  the  answer.  "  At 
which  time  you  must  manage  to  be  far  from  here. 
A  northern  climate  is  more  favorable  than  Central 
or  Southern  Europe  for  such  events.  But  this  is 
too  distant  to  need  immediate  discussion.  It  is  your 
present  task  to  obtain,  with  your  bride,  the  forgive- 
ness of  her  father  and  mother." 

Gray  asked,  half  dazed,  when  he  should  meet  the 
father. 

"  Very  soon.  But  you  must  see  Mrs.  Gray"  (the 
young  man  winced)  "  this  afternoon,  and  agree  upon 


94  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

the  story  you  are  to  tell.  It  is  necessary  to  have 
the  Colonel  pretend  ignorance  of  everything,  and  he 
will  carry  out  that  role  to  the  letter.  When  it  is  set- 
tled that  you  met  Miss  Newcombe  by  chance  in 
Venice,  or  Rome,  or  Florence,  last  winter,  where 
your  love  ripened  into  a  declaration  ;  and  that,  fear- 
ing a  rejection  from  the  parents,  you  finally  met 
surreptitiously  in  Holland  and  were  united  there,  it 
will  be  for  Miss  Gladys  to  '  inform  '  her  father  of  these 
'facts'  and  beg  his  paternal  pardon.  Colonel  New- 
combe,  knowing  best  how  to  break  the  news  to  his 
wife,  will  attend  to  that  part  of  the  affair.  He  will 
say  to  her  that,  while  the  error  of  their  child  is  a 
grave  one,  it  is  best  to  overlook  it  with  as  few  words 
as  possible,  as  he  has  discovered  that  you  are  a  very 
decent  young  fellow,  who  will  not  disgrace  the  fam- 
ily. Then  Mrs.  Newcombe  will  forgive  her  daugh- 
ter and  clasp  her  to  her  motherly  breast  ;  and  the 
next  thing  is  for  Gladys  to  bring  her  husband,  who 
will  plead  his  excuses  and  accept  the  reconciliation 
that  awaits  him." 

The  flippancy  that  frequently  came  into  the  man- 
ner of  the  solicitor  did  not  please  his  hearer,  but  he 
could  utter  no  complaint  with  good  reason.  He  had 
laid  himself  open  to  this  kind  of  thing  by  accepting 
his  equivocal  position.  The  deceptions  he  was  asked 
to  practice  were  distasteful,  but  he  saw  no  way  to 
escape  them,  and  he  bowed  consent  to  each  of  the 
schemes  unrolled.  He  realized  that  a  strain  was 
taken  from  the  mind  of  Mr.  Yates,  and  that  the  live- 
liness of  his  discussion  was  partly  the  result  of  the 
relief  he  felt. 

Gilbert  did   not   dare,  in  fact,  to  think  too  deeply 


AN   AMERICAN    GIRL.  95 

about  anything,  lest  he  should  be  tempted  to  break 
his  word,  the  most  dishonorable  thing  he  could  con- 
ceive of  at  this  stage  of  the  affair. 

After  considerable  further  talk  the  solicitor  left  him 
with  the  understanding  that  at  three  o'clock  that 
afternoon  a  meeting  was  to  take  place  with  Miss 
Newcombe,  at  a  private  parlor  in  the  hotel  where  she 
was  at  present  residing. 

Going  out  of  doors  it  struck  the  young  man  that 
nothing  would  be  more  to  his  present  mood  than  a 
gallop  in  the  Park.  He  wanted  something  to  stir  his 
blood,  that  seemed  stagnating  in  his  veins.  He  felt 
fully  justified  in  ordering  saddled  the  horse  which 
had  been  placed  at  his  disposal  by  Mr.  Yates,  and 
which  he  had  mentally  resigned  the  night  before  with 
all  his  other  elegancies.  He  therefore  proceeded  to 
the  stable  and  mounted  the  beast,  and  as  Hyde  Park 
was  nearer  than  Regent's  he  rode  to  the  path  there, 
without  a  thought  of  the  reasons  that  had  induced 
him  for  the  past  week  to  avoid  it. 

If  he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment  the  existence  of 
Mr.  William  Neiling,  he  was  soon  to  be  brought 
back  to  a  remembrance  of  it.  He  had  ridden  up  the 
path  but  a  few  seconds  when  he  saw  coming  toward 
him  the  object  of  his  detestation,  and  evidently  in 
a  mood  quite  the  reverse  of  amiable.  The  horse 
that  Neiling  rode  was  plunging  fearfully,  and  on  both 
sides  the  blood  showed  where  the  relentless  spur  had 
been  pitilessly  driven  in.  His  bit  was  covered  with 
ioam  and  his  nostrils  were  distended,  while  his  eyes, 
as  could  be  seen  at  a  glance,  were  bloodshot.  Neil- 
ing saw  Gray  at  the  same  instant,  and  rode  straight 
at  him  ;  a  moment  later  the  two  animals  collided 


96  LOVE   GONE    ASTBAY. 

with  terrific  force,  and  lay  with  their  riders,  a  tan- 
gled heap  on  the  ground. 

Some  people  who  saw  the  occurrence,  together 
with  a  policeman  who  was  somehow  found,  hastened 
to  the  spot,  and  held  the  horses'  heads  while  the 
riders  were  assisted  to  their  feet.  Gray,  however, 
discovered  that  he  could  only  stand  with  help,  one  of 
his  ankles  being  sprained.  The  other,  though  con- 
siderably bruised,  was  able  to  remount  his  horse, 
and  did  so. 

"  It  was  this  man's  fault  !"  cried  one  of  the 
spectators,  pointing  to  Neiling. 

"  Yes,"  .exclaimed  another.  "  He  rode  straight 
into  the  other  gentleman,  like  it  was  a-purpose." 

Neiling  sat  his  animal  with  a  very  red  face,  brush- 
ing the  dirt  from  his  clothes  with  a  nonchalant  air. 
He  saw  Gray  dispatch  one  boy  for  a  carriage,  and 
give  his  beast  to  another,  with  directions  where  to 
lead  it.  He  evidently  was  for  the  nonce  hors  du 
combat. 

"Do  you  wish  to  enter  a  complaint,  sir?"  asked 
the  policeman,  taking  out  his  note-book. 

It  was  Gray's  first  intention  so  to  do,  but  at  that 
instant  the  pain  in  his  ankle  increased  so  much  that 
he  was  near  swooning  on  the  spot. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  only  want  to  get  to  my  rooms." 

He  whispered  the  direction  to  the  officer,  who 
gave  it  to  the  just  arrived  cabman.  As  he  was 
helped  into  the  vehicle  he  heard  a  taunting  laugh 
from  Neiling,  who  waited  no  longer,  but  galloped 
rapidly  away. 


HUSBAND   AND   WIPE. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

MR.  YATES  was  still  in  his  office  when  a  man  came 
up  the  stairs  to  say  that  Mr.  Gray  had  been  injured 
and  required  assistance  to  bring  him  to  his  apartment. 
The  solicitor  hastened  anxiously  to  the  street,  taking 
two  of  his  clerks  with  him.  For  several  seconds  he 
had  a  terrible  apprehension  that  an  accident  had 
upset  .all  his  carefully  prepared  plans.  When  he 
reached  Gray's  side  and  learned  the  full  extent  of 
the  hurt  to  be  a  sprained  limb,  he  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief.  The  young  man  was  carried  bodily  up  the 
stairway,  for  he  could  not  now  bear  the  least  weight 
on  one  foot,  and  a  physician,  who  was  summoned, 
proceeded  to  swathe  the  affected  part  in  bandages 
and  liniment,  stating  that  no  attempt  to  walk  should 
be  made  for  some  days. 

Bad  as  this  was,  it  might  have  been  much  worse. 
When  Mr.  Yates  had  time  to  learn  the  manner  in 
which  the  injury  was  caused  he  thought  Gray  lucky 
to  have  escaped  as  lightly  as  he  did.  It  was  a  nasty 
performance,  he  said,  and  one  that  might  have  re- 
sulted even  fatally.  As  toNeilings  motive,  he  could 
«ot  understand  it.  He  had,  no  doubt,  been  working 
himself  into  a  passion  over  his  disappointment,  and 
was  ready  to  vent  his  spleen  on  any  person  who  hap- 
pened to  get  in  his  way.  However,  nothing  wouid 
be  gained  by  a  prosecution,  as  the  unenviable  notor- 
iety of  the  case  would  affect  his  victim  also. 


98  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

"  Besides,"  added  the  solicitor,  "  he  is  going  out 
of  the  country,  I  understand,  within  a  day  or  two,  to 
remain  indefinitely.  He  told  me  as  much,"  he  ex- 
plained,  in  response  to  Gray's  inquiring  glance.  "  I 
only  hope  it  is  true  and  that  he  will  stay  as  long  as 
he  lives." 

Gray  eyed  his  companion  intently  from  the  place 
on  the  sofa  where  the  doctor  had  left  him. 

"  He  does  not  know — you  are  sure — that  /  am  to 
marry  Miss  Newcombe  ?" 

"Not  by  any  means,"  was  the  decided  answer. 
"  He  has  evidently  conceived  for  you  one  of  those 
hatreds  that  some  minds  learn  to  entertain  for  their 
benefactors.  He  is  a  disagreeable  fellow,  as  I  found 
before  he  left  this  morning,  and  the  best  thing  to  do 
is  to  dismiss  him  from  our  thoughts.  Whether  he 
leaves  England  or  not,  you  and  the  Newcombes  will 
go  as  soon  as  you  are  able  to  travel,  and  in  the  mean- 
time you  will  not  be  about  the  streets  where  you  can 
meet  him.  Let  us  talk  of  matters  that  more  immedi- 
ately concern  us.  Are  you  able  to  hold  a  short  in- 
terview with  your  wife  here  this  afternoon  ?" 

"With  my  wife?"  repeated  Gilbert,  absently. 

"With  the  lady  to  whom  you  were  united  in  mar- 
riage at  Amsterdam  in  September  last.  You  must 
get  used  to  this  fact,  must  familiarize  your  mind 
with  these  dates.  When  I  send  word  to  Mrs.  Gray 
that  her  husband  has  been  injured  she  will  fly  to 
your  side.  It  even  occurs  to  me  that  this  accident 
may  prove  of  benefit  to  our  cause,  as  it  will  furnish 
a  plausible  excuse  to  reveal  the  truth — don't  dispute 
my  phrases — to  her  father.  While  her  husband  was 
well  he  could  get  along  without  her  ;  being  ill  he  re- 


HUSBAND   AND    WIFE.  99 

quires  her  care  and  attention.  Every  one  sympa- 
thizes with  a  man  who  smells  of  arnica.  We  shall 
have  her  here — shall  we  not  ? — at  three  o'clock,  for  a 
preliminary  rehearsal." 

As  Gray  had  put  himself  so  thoroughly  in  the 
hands  of  the  man  of  law  he  made  no  objection  to  the 
proposal.  There  was  a  certain  advantage  in  receiv- 
ing his  bride  while  in  this  semi-helpless  state.  She 
would  not  expect  him,  for  instance,  to  offer  any  form 
of  affection,  which  was  a  gain  of  no  little  moment. 
If  he  was  paler  than  a  man  should  be  she  would  lay 
it  wholly  to  the  effects  of  his  fall  and  sprain  ;  and  if 
the  interview  was  brief  the  same  reason  could  be  as- 
signed. So  he  told  Mr.  Yates  to  bring  him  Miss 
Newcombe — he  begged  pardon,  M-r-s.  G-r-a-y — at 
the  hour  mentioned,  and  he  would  prepare  for  the 
ordeal  before  him. 

"  That  is  arranged  then,"  said  the  solicitor,  rubbing 
his  hands  together.  "  But  bear  in  mind,  please,  that 
you  are  not  the  only  one  who  has  an  'ordeal'  to  go 
through.  You  will  meet  a  very  young  girl  who  is 
obliged  to  confess  to  you,  by  implication,  a  fault 
which  she  would  rather,  ordinarily,  sacrifice  her  life, 
almost,  than  admit  to  a  husband.  Her  mind  will  be 
at  an  extreme  nervous  tension,  which  you  must  do 
your  best  to  relieve.  Your  conversation  should  be 
kept  to  the  largest  degree  upon  matters  that  are 
purely  business  in  their  nature  No  allusion  or 
insinuation,  for  instance,  must  be  thought  of  at  this 
time,  in  reference  to  her  condition." 

The  young  man  started  so  suddenly  at  this  that  he 
wrenched  his  aching  limb  and  uttered  a  cry  of  pain. 

"  You  ought  to  know,"  he  complained,  his  face  con» 


100  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

vulsed  with  suffering  from  a  double  cause,  "that 
such  a  warning  is  unnecessary.  Not  only  to-day,  but 
never,  if  there  is  any  way  to  prevent  it,  shall  I  allude 
in  the  most  remote  degree  to  any  peculiarity  in  that 
•matter.  I  trust,  though  my  present  position  may 
lead  you  to  doubt  it,  that  I  have  still  in  my  veins  the 
blood  of  a  gentleman  !" 

The  solicitor  made  haste  to  dispel  the  disagreeable 
effect  of  his  suggestion,  and  when  he  had  succeeded 
in  so  doing  he  went  to  write  the  note  to  Mrs.  Gray, 
informing  her  of  the  reason  why  she  must  come  to 
his  office  instead  of  to  the  parlor  of  the  hotel  which 
had  formerly  been  designated  for  the  meeting. 

He  smiled  gravely  as  he  began  the  epistle  with  the 
words,  "  My  Dear  Mrs.  G. :  I  regret  to  inform  you 
that  your  husband  has  met  with  a  slight  accident." 

When  he  had  placed  the  letter  in  an  envelope  he 
did  not  write  any  address  on  the  outside,  but  gave  it 
to  his  most  faithful  assistant,  with  orders  to  put  it 
into  no  hands  but  those  of  Colonel  Newcombe's 
daughter. 

At  the  hour  designated  Gladys  came  to  the  office 
and  was  escorted  into  Gilbert  Gray's  presence.  Mr. 
Yates  remained  only  long  enough  to  make  his  intro- 
ductions, and  then,  with  a  fatherly  smile,  left  them 
together. 

It  took  but  a  glance  to  show  Mr.  Gray  the  genuina 
beauty  of  the  young  girl  he  had  promised  to  take  foi 
his  wife.  Even  the  terrible  suffering  she  had  under 
gone  could  not  blot  out  the  loveliness  of  her  features^ 
which  must  have  been  surpassingly  handsome  thre*. 
short  months  before.  Her  form  was  rounded, show- 


HUSBAND   AND   WIFE.  101 

ing  an  earlier  than  usual  development,  and  she 
dressed  with  a  quiet  taste  that  spoke  volumes  for  her 
judgment  in  such  matters,  Her  eyes  and  hatr  were 
dark. 

These  observations  were  the  easier  made  because 
the  girl  kept  her  gaze  riveted  to  the  carpet  for  some 
seconds  after  she  entered  the  room.  But  before  she 
spoke  Gilbert  revised  one  opinion  that  had  formed 
itself  unconsciously  in  his  mind.  There  was  nothing 
in  her  of  the  iciness  he  had  supposed.  If  she  was 
pale,  she  was  not  weak.  Her  veins  were  full  of  rich 
blood  that  only  the  strangeness  of  the  occasion  had 
driven  from  her  cheeks. 

And  still  she  seemed  withal  the  incarnation  of 
modesty  and  womanliness.  He  could  not  understand 
— no,  not  in  the  least — how  it  could  be  true,  what  he 
had  heard  of  her.  And  there  was  nothing  yet  to  tes- 
tify, at  least  to  his  inexperienced  eyes,  the  cause  of 
her  presence  in  that  chamber. 

It  was  she  who  first  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  been  hurt,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
but  rich  voice. 

"  You  are  kind  to  say  so,"  he  answered,  and  his 
own  tones  sounded  strange  to  him,  as  if  they  were 
another's.  A  horse  collided  with  mine,  as  I  was  rid- 
ing this  morning.  The  doctor  says  I  shall  be  out  in 
a  week." 

Then  he  paused,  having  reached  the  end  of  all  he 
wanted  to  say  on  that  point.  He  realized  now,  with 
eyes  averted,  that  she  was  studying  him  as  intently 
as  he  had  been  studying  her.  She  had  as  much  rea- 
son, perhaps.  When  a  girl  is  to  live  with  a.  man  for 


102  LOVE  GONE:  ASTRAY. 

the  rest  of  her  days  it  is  important  to  know  what  he 
is  like. 

Gladys  saw  that  her  future  lord  was  not  ugly  in 
appearance,  and  that  his  bearing  was  agreeable, 
though  naturally  somewhat  strained  at  this  time. 
With  a  thought  to  the  opinion  of  the  world,  which  she 
had  begun,  a  little  late,  to  care  for,  she  decided  that 
he  would  satisfy  conventionality  as  a  suitable  mate 
for  her. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  no  worse,"  she  said,  when  the  si- 
lence became  painful. 

She  looked  about  the  room,  inspecting  the  pictures, 
while  he  stole  another  searching  glance  at  her  fea- 
tures. How,  he  asked  himself  again,  could  such  a 
girl  as  that  be  won  to  indelicacy  ?  It  was  incon- 
ceivable. She,  who  could  hardly  muster  courage  to 
talk  there  with  him  in  a  closed  room,  while  he  lay 
helpless  on  a  sofa  !  This  reflection  was  mirrored  in 
his  countenance,  when,  turning  suddenly  to  speak 
again,  she  saw  it  there,  and  paused,  with  a  crimson 
cheek. 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  hard  !"  she  exclaimed,  bursting 
into  sobs.  "  Yes,  it  is  too  hard — for  both  of  us  !  I 
did  not  think  you  would  mind— not  in  the  same  way 
I  do  !  I  did  not  realize  what  it  must  mean  to  you  !" 

Much  distressed,  Gijbert  Gray  raised  himself  on  an 
elbow,  and  besought  her  to  be  calm.  All  the  chiv- 
alry in  his  nature  was  aroused.  He  pitied  the  girl 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Her  unexpected 
flood  of  sensitiveness  raised  her  immensely  in  his  es- 
timation. 

"Everything  is  arranged  now — everything  is  un- 
derstood, he  answered,  soothingly.  "  Mr.  Yates  has 


HUSBAND    AND   WIFE.  103 

procured  the  certificate  of — of — our  marriage.  Let 
me  beg  you  not  to  repeat  these  outbursts." 

She  arose,  impulsively,  and  threw  herself  on  the 
floor  by  the  side  of  the  sofa,  laying  her  head  on  his 
bosom,  while  she  wept  softly.  He  was  distressed  as 
much  by  this  move  as  the  former  one,  but  he  had 
not  the  heart  to  forbid  it.  At  least  it  led  in  the  di- 
rection they  would  ultimately  have  to  take. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  when  she  had  grown  a  little 
quieter.  "We  must  understand  everything  exactly 
alike.  Let  us  see  if  we  agree  on  all  points,  for  as  we 
have  one  story  to  tell  there  must  be  no  flaws.  Miss 
Newcombe — I  mean  Mrs.  Gray — take  your  chair 
again  and  let  us  see  if  there  is  anything  in  which  we 
differ." 

The  girl  rose  and  took  the  seat  designated,  fixing 
her  gaze  steadfastly  on  a  figure  in  the  carpet,  and 
answering  with  that  parrot-like  accuracy  which  often 
accompanies  preoccupation  of  mind.  It  was  the 
best  course  he  could  have  taken.  It  avoided  for  the 
present  the  shoals  and  quicksands  of  argument,  for 
which  neither  of  them  were  prepared. 

"  As  I  understand  it,"  he  began,  clearing  his  throat, 
"we  met  by  accident  for  the  first  time,  in  Venice, 
over  a  year  ago.  Each  was  attracted1  by  the  other, 
although  no  word  was  then  exchanged.  The  next 
time  we  met  was  at  the " 

"The  Palace  of  the  Uffizi,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  taking  up  the  strain.  "There  we  learned  each 
other's  names,  and  that  both  were  Americans.  Next 
we  were  thrown  together  at  a  reception  of  the  Amer- 
ican minister  in  Rome " 

Mr.  Gray  bowed  in  the  affirmative. 


104  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

"Where,  in  one  of  the  ante-rooms,"  he  said,  "  I 
begged  permission  to  write  to  you,  and  you  con- 
sented, giving  me  a  name  under  which  I  could  ad- 
dress my  communications.  From  that  time  our  love- 
making  took  new  life.  I  returned  to  America,  and 
not  being  able  to  live  without  you,  returned,  joining 
you  at  Amsterdam  last  September.  Then,  fearing  a 
possible  refusal  from  your  parents,  we  decided  to  be 
married  secretly." 

Gladys  looked  up  at  last. 

"What  a  miserable  tissue  of  lies  it  is  !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  How  can  I  consent  to  let  an  innocent  man 
like  you  share  the  sin  of  those  falsehoods  with  me  !" 

Gilbert  placed  a  warning  finger  on  his  lips  to  indi- 
cate that  such  expressions  must  not  be  used. 

"  There  is  no  point  in  ouv  story  at  which  we  dis- 
agree," he  said,  "  which  is  very  good.  The  name  of 
the  clergyman  who  married  us  was  August  Voorhoe. 
We  can  be  accused  of  injudiciousness,  but  of  nothing 
more.  To-night  you  will  go  through  the  form  of 
telling  your  father " 

The  girl  gave  a  cry  and  pressed  her  hands  over 
her  face. 

"  Explaining  that  the  accident — do  not  forget 
this — the  accident  that  has  befallen  me  compels  you 
to  reveal  the  truth  and  implore  his  forgiveness.  He 
will  find  it  best  to  take  a  sensible  view  of  what  can- 
not be  helped,  and  will  impart  your  confession,  with 
such  excuses  as  he  can  find,  to  your  mother." 

There  was  another  cry  from  the  listener — a  spas- 
modic exclamation  that  testified  how  deep  was  the 
feeling  the  holy  name  inspired. 

"  Your  mother,"  continued  Gilbert,  "  will  be  guided 


HUSBAND   AND   WIFE.  105 

by  your  father's  superior  force  of  will,  and  as  soon 
as  I  am  able  to  walk  they  will  receive  us  with  forgiv- 
ing arms." 

Gladys  began  to  sob  again.  The  ingenious  story 
that  the  solicitor  had  invented  differed  so  widely 
from  the  cruel  truth  that  it  only  accentuated  and 
emphasized  the  latter.  Whatever  face  her  father 
might  present  to  the  world,  whatever  tale  he  might 
be  willing  to  adopt,  she  knew  her  fault  had  struck 
him  a  blow  from  which  his  proud  nature  would 
never  recover.  As  for  the  mother,  while  she,  in  her 
ignorance  of  the  facts,  would  suffer  less,  there  was 
something  in  deliberate  deceit  to  that  loving  and  in- 
dulgent relation  that  savored  of  the  deepest  villainy. 
And  to  this  must  now  be  added  the  subornation  of 
another  person  to  all  this  perjury. 

"  There  !"  said  Gray,  forcing  a  smile  to  his  face  in 
the  hope  that  it  might  bring  one  to  hers.  "  It  is  all 
settled,  as  far  as  you  are  concerned.  The  only  thing 
left  is  the  blame  that  should  properly  fall  on  me  for 
securing  the  hand  of  an  heiress  when  I  have  nothing 
to  offset  to  her  worldly  wealth.  This  I  am  prepared 
to  meet,  but  I  prefer,  if  possible,  that  the  exact  truth 
should  be  colored  a  little,  to  match  with  the  rest  of 
these  transactions.  And  as  soon  as  possible  I  want 
to  be  put  in  a  position  where  my  services  may  be 
utilized.  I  have  no  desire  to  eat  my  wife's  bread 
after  an  opportunity  of  earning  my  own  can  be  ob- 
tained." 

Gladys  had  tried  several  times  to  stop  him  while 
he  was  saying  these  things,  but  he  persisted  to  the 
end.  Then  she  chided  him  for  his  expressions  and 
said  she  hoped  he  would  never  repeat  them.  Com- 


A06  LOVB   GONE   ASTKAT. 

pared  to  the  immense  load  he  had  agreed  to  carry, 
these  minor  matters  were  not  to  be  spoken  of.  Be- 
tween her  sentences  there  came  waves  of  color  and 
little  gasps  that  testified  to  her  agitated  state  of 
mind,  and  Mr.  Gray  forbore  to  pursue  a  subject  that 
evidently  so  much  distressed  her.  At  the  end  of  an 
hour  they  parted  without  special  demonstration, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  a  knock  at  the  door  came 
from  the  solicitor,  who  inquired  if  he  might  enter. 

"  Well,  you  have  been  gettingalong  nicely,  I  hope," 
was  his  greeting.  "Everything  arranged,  I  trust." 

"  Everything,"  answered  Gilbert.  "  Mrs.  Gray 
and  I  have  no  differences  whatever." 

In  his  delight  at  finding  matters  in  such  excellent 
shape,  the  solicitor  was  in  great  spirits. 

"  A  truly  remarkable  couple,"  said  he.  "  May  this 
auspicious  beginning  find  its  parallel  in  long  years  of 
contented  life  together.  Your  parts  have  been  re- 
hearsed, then,  and  you  are  both  ready  for  the  more 
serious  matter  of  playing  them  to  the  public.  Let 
me  predict  a  successful  debut  in  your  new  characters. 
Seriously,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  that  his  pleasantry 
was  not  very  cordially  received,  "I  believe  both  of 
you  will  look  back  upon  this  day  as  the  happiest  in 
your  careers.  Whatever  clouds  there  are  will  vanish. 
You  are  sensible  young  people  who  will  take  care  to 
deepen  the  esteem  you  have  already  conceived  for 
each  other.  I  learn  from  Mrs.  Gray  that  you  have 
done  magnificently." 

"Thank  you,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "And  now 
will  you  let  me  ask — with  no  intention  of  being 
impolite — that  you  will  restrain  your  comments  for 
the  future.  I  have  acceded  to  all  your  requests.  I 


*  HUSBAND   AND    WIFE.  107 

am  now,  I  understand,  the  lawful  husband  of  the  lady 
that  has  just  left  here.  There  is  nothing,  so  far  as  I 
know,  that  we  cannot  ourselves  arrange  in  reference 
to  our  affairs.  From  this  moment  I  wish  no  word  to 
pass  between  you  and  me  that  alludes  in  the  remotest 
way  to  what  has  happened.  I  have  married  a 
daughter  of  your  client,  if  you  please.  The  marriage 
is  now  three  months  old.  You  have  but  recently  dis- 
covered it,  and  have  set  about  the  task  of  mediator 
between  the  young  couple  and  the  parents.  You 
have  succeeded — or  will  by  to-morrow — in  bringing 
about  a  satisfactory  state  of  affairs.  Now,  is  there 
any  reason  why  you  and  I  should  have  a  different 
understanding  than  that  possessed  by  the  rest  of 
mankind  ?  Shall  we  not  forget,  absolutely,  all  that 
passed  up  to  the  hour  when  I  came  to  your  office  and 
told  you  that,  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  last  September, 
I  was  married  at  Amsterdam  to  Miss  Gladys  New- 
combe  ?" 

Though  somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  manner  in 
which  these  suggestions  were  delivered,  Mr.  Yates 
was  obliged  to  admit  that  there  was  wisdom  in  them. 
He  therefore  responded  that  he  would  accept  the 
situation,  and  do  his  best  to  forget  that  any  other 
had  ever  existed. 

"  Do  you  feel  able,"  he  asked,  "  to  hold  your  inter- 
view with  Colonel  Newcombe  this  evening?  He 
will  be  perfectly  tractable  and  treat  you  with  all 
respect." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  it  over,"  said  Mr. 
Gray. 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  ask  him  to  come  after  dinner. 
You  have  seen  him  once,  indistinctly,  perhaps,  in  my 


108  LOVE   OOWE   ASTBAT. 

office.  Do  you  remember  the  old  gentleman  who 
had  the  toothache  ?  Ah  !  Here  is  the  doctor,  who 
wants  to  look  at  your  ankle.  Come  right  in,  Dr. 
Sullivan.  Well,  and  how  do  you  find  him  ?" 

"A  little  heated,   but  doing  nicely,"  replied   the 
physician,  after  counting  the  pulse  beat  slowly. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"YOU    MUST    LET    ME    THANK    YOU." 

WHEN  both  the  doctor  and  the  solicitor  had  left 
the  room,  Gilbert  Gray  was  plunged  into  a  pro- 
longed reverie.  His  situation  was  so  incredible  that 
he  half  believed  all  the  events  of  the  past  month  a 
dream,  from  which  he  must,  sooner  or  later,  awake. 
While  he  felt  keenly  the  anomalous  position  into 
which  he  had  permitted  himself  to  be  drawn,  he  ac- 
cepted it  as  inevitable,  and  would  hardly  have  es- 
caped if,  by  one  dash  for  freedom,  he  could  have 
done  so.  The  gentle  demeanor  of  his  bride  impressed 
him  strongly.  It  was  something  to  have  brought 
relief  to  that  distracted  mind.  Placed  by  Fate  in  a 
condition  where  he  was  not  the  master  of  his  own 
destiny,  it  was  well  that  he  had  been  used  as  an  in- 
strument of  mercy  to  others.  He  resolved  to  make 
the  best  of  his  marriage,  and  win  whatever  of  credit 
there  might  remain  in  a  union  entered  upon  so  in- 
gloriously. 

The  dinner  that  the  domestic  brought  him  was 


WTOU  MUST   LET  ME  THANK   YOU."  109 

fairly  well  treated,  for  the  appetite  of  youth  is  hard 
to  destroy,  and  the  injury  to  his  ankle  did  not  affect 
his  hunger.  When  the  viands  were  cleared  away  he 
lay  quietly  awaiting  the  interview  which  had  been 
arranged.  It  was  like  a  surgical  operation  that  could 
not  be  avoided,  and  the  best  way  was  to  endure  it 
with  all  possible  equanimity. 

As  on  the  previous  occasion,  Mr.  Yates  only  re- 
mained in  the  room  long  enough  to  make  his  intro- 
ductions, and  to  say  that  he  hoped  the  meeting  would 
result  agreeably  to  all  parties  concerned.  When  he 
had  gone,  Colonel  Newcombe,  whose  face  Gray  now 
saw  distinctly  for  the  first  time,  seated  himself  in  an 
armchair,  a  little  way  from  the  couch.  He  was  an 
elderly  man  in  years,  and  a  decidedly  old  man  in 
appearance  ;  much  older  since  the  trouble  in  his 
family,  Gilbert  had  no  doubt.  There  was  a  tired 
look  about  his  gray  eyes,  a  feebleness  in  the  move- 
ments of  his  hands  that  told  its  own  tale.  He  had  a 
large  quantity  of  whitish  hair  that  persistently  fell 
across  his  forehead  in  a  style  that  might  at  a  former 
day  have  added  to  his  good  looks,  but  was  now  a 
pathetic  reminder  of  the  suffering  he  had  undergone. 
He  was  tall,  or  had  been,  for  the  stoop  of  the  broad 
shoulders  lowered  his  stature  considerably.  His 
dress  was  careless,  and  his  voice,  naturally  strong, 
trembled. 

There  was  a  moment  during  which  neither  of  them 
spoke,  and  the  clock  at  the  other  end  of  the  room 
ticked  so  loudly  that  both  were  aware  of  its  sound. 

Then  Gray,  mustering  courage,  and  thinking  it  the 
part  of  wisdom  to  set  the  conversation  in  the  right 
direction  at  the  beginning,  addressed  his  companion. 


110  LOVB   GONE   ASTRAY. 

"  I  want  to  say  to  you,"  he  began,  "  that  I  realize 
the  feelings  you  must  have  towards  me,  and  hope 
you  will  do  as  little  as  possible  to  emphasize  that 
point.  Your  daughter  Gladys  and  I  have  committed 
an  indiscretion,  no  doubt.  Both  of  us  feel  it  now, 
altogether  too  plainly.  But,  at  the  time  we  decided 
to  marry — in  Amsterdam,  last  September — neither 
foresaw  the  injurious  effect  of  that  course.  Nothing 
remains  for  me  but  to  ask  your  forgiveness,  and  to 
live  hereafter  in  such  a  manner  that  you  will  forget 
what  has  passed." 

These  things  Gilbert  uttered,  not  without  many 
pauses,  and  gropings  for  the  right  expressions. 
When  he  had  finished,  unable  to  say  another  word, 
he  felt  that  he  had  acquitted  himself  very  badly. 
Colonel  Newcombe  listened,  at  first,  with  a  look  of 
wonder  on  his  distressed  face,  but  gradually  seemed 
to  comprehend  the  metaphor  which  Gray  had  elected 
to  use.  When  it  became  his  turn  to  speak,  however, 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to  take  up  the  thread  that 
was  offered  him.  His  sentiments  were  too  deep  for 
masquerading.  All  he  could  do  was  to  confine  him- 
self to  the  future.  He  knew  very  well  that  this  man 
was  not  responsible  for  his  daughter's  fall.  He 
knew  that  the  marriage  between  them  was  but  a  few 
hours  old,  and  that  the  ante-dating  of  the  documents 
was  the  barest  fraud. 

"  I  have  come  here,"  he  began,  "  to — assure  you — 
that  I  shall  make  the  best  of — the  situation,  and  treat 
you — sir — as  far  as  I  can — as  if  there  was  nothing 
peculiar — in  this — affair.  If  I  am  tempted  to  speak 
of — of  anything  that  I  would  have  given  my  life  to 
have  had  otherwise — I  will  try  to  suffer  in  silence. 


"TOtT   MUST   LET   MB    THANK   YOU.**  Ill 

You  are  represented  to  me — as  a  young  man  of  good 
character,  and — of  a  good  family.  Your  appearance 
is  decidedly — in  your  favor." 

To  these  kind  remarks  Gilbert  returned  a  bow, 
which  hid  for  a  moment  the  blush  they  brought  to 
his  cheek.  He  felt  that  the  worst  was  over,  and  that 
he  had  nothing  to  dread  from  this  man.  He  there- 
fore went  on  to  speak  of  his  former  life,  of  his 
orphaned  youth,  of  his  travels  with  Mr.  Blair,  and  of 
his  surprise  at  learning  that  the  fortune  he  had 
expected  to  inherit  had  vanished. 

"  I  have  not  ten  pounds  that  I  can  call  my  own,"* 
he  said,  candidly.  "  But  I  have  youth,  sir,  and  cour- 
age, and  perhaps  a  little  ability  ;  and  I  hope  you  will 
soon  help  me  to  some  employment  that  will  relieve 
me  from  the  shame  of  idleness." 

It  was  plain  that  these  remarks  were  agreeable  to 
Colonel  Newcombe,  and  that  their  effect  was  to  lift 
in  some  small  degree  the  cloud  that  hung  upon  his 
face.  He  had  begun  already  to  like  this  young 
man. 

"  We  will  talk  of  that  in  good  time,"  he  said. 
"  When  I  return  to  America,  which  "  (he  paused  a 
moment)  "  will  not  be  for — for  a  year  or  so,  something 
can  be  arranged.  At  present,  however,  it  is  not  to  be 
thought  of,  for  you  will  have  some — some  traveling, 
and  some— other— duties.  I  wish  you  to  feel,  Mr. 
Gray,  that  you  are  now  my  son,  and  that  the  greatest 
treasure  "  (he  gasped),  "that  I  own — yes,  still  the 
greatest  treasure,  except  my  wife — is  in  your  hands. 
While  you  give  her  the  care  and  attention  she  needs  at 
present,  I  want  you  to  think  of  nothing  else.  When  the 


112  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

right  time  comes — we  will  talk  about  it.  Yes,  we 
will— talk  about  it." 

The  rest  of  the  time  that  Colonel  Newcombe  re- 
mained was  passed  in  a  general  discussion  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  year  ensuing  should  be  passed, 
and  the  two  men  found  themselves  in  perfect  accord. 

"  I  want  to  take  your  hand,"  said  the  Colonel,  as 
he  rose  to  depart.  "  I  wish  you  to  feel — that  you 
have  a  friend  who  fully  appreciates — who  is  glad 
that  a  ray  of  good  fortune,  that  came  with  so  much 
that  was  ill,  threw  you  in  his  way.  And  I  hope,"  he 
added,  "  that  you  will  soon  be  able  to  be  about,  and 
none  the  worse  for  the  misadventure  of  this  morn- 
ing." 

The  proffered  grasp  was  taken  and  returned  witn 
interest,  and  the  tall,  bent  form  of  the  elder  man 
passed  through  the  doorway  and  disappeared. 

Five  minutes  later  Mr.  Yates  came  in  and  looked  a 
hundred  questions  from  his  business-like  eyes. 

"  Everything  is  satisfactory,"  said  Gray,  shortly. 
from  his  place  on  the  sofa,  and  turned  the  conversa- 
tion so  abruptly  into  other  fields  that  the  solicitor 
took  the  plain  hint  and  did  not  refer  to  the  Newcombe 
family  again  that  night. 

On  the  succeeding  afternoon,  when  Mrs.  Gray 
came  to  see  her  husband,  she  brought  tidings  that 
the  news  had  been  broken  to  her  mother,  and  that 
she  had  received  it  as  well  as  could  possibly  have 
been  hoped.  Mrs.  Newcombe  worshiped  her  child, 
and  when  the  case  was  presented  with  due  artfulness 
by  the  Colonel,  as  one  in  which  the  heart  had  been 
too  strong  for  the  judgment,  she  found  excuses  for 
her  child,  and  took  her  to  her  arms. 


"YOU   MUST    LBT   ME   THANK    YOU."  113 

**3he  wants  to  see  you,  too,"  added  the  young  wife, 
blushing,  "at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  That 
is  the  worst  trial  we  shall  have  to  go  through  with—- 
at— present — and  it  seems  to  me  the  hardest.  My 
dear  mother  has  been  so  good,  so  indulgent,  we  have 
been  such  companions  !  It  is  terrible  to  deceive 
her,  even  for  her  own  good." 

Tears  followed  these  remorseful  expressions,  but 
Mr.  Gray  interposed  to  stop  them. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you,  very  earnestly,"  he  said,  "  to 
say  nothing  more — now  or  at  any  time  in  the  future — 
in  reference  to  these  matters.  I  plant  myself  on  one 
statement — -that  you  and  I  were  married  three  months 
and  more  ago.  In  my  conversation  with  your  father 
nothing  else  was  allowed  to  be  intimated  ;  nothing 
should  be  between  you  and  me.  We  must  accustom 
ourselves  to  that  story,  and  forget  that  we  ever 
believed  otherwise.  Your  father  has  forgiven  us  for 
that  marriage — in  Amsterdam — made  without  his 
consent.  Your  mother  is  ready  to  give  us  her  blessing, 
notwithstanding  the  same  act  of  thoughtlessness  on 
our  part.  We  have  the  whole  world  to  face,  and 
unless  the  truth — the  truth,  understand — is  very  clear 
in  our  minds,  we  shall  have  a  difficult  task." 

Slowly  his  plan  dawned  upon  her  mind,  and  when 
she  fully  understood  it  she  came  to  his  side  and 
would  have  fallen  at  his  feet  again  in  her  gratitude 
as  she  did  the  day  before. 

"No,  not  there!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  are  for- 
getting the  very  alphabet  of  your  lesson.  Do  you 
not  comprehend  ?  We  married  for  love  ;  we  are 
devoted  lovers  !  A  prostrate  wife  at  my  feet  would 
tell  another  tale.  Accidents  may  happen.  A  door 


114  LOVK   GONE   A8TBAT. 

that  we  think  locked  may  admit  a  suspicious  in. 
truder.  A  crevice  may  carry  a  sound  that  will 
expose  us,  if  we  fail  in  consistency.  You  are  my 
wife  ;  we  are  still  in  the  stages  of  the  honeymoon. 
We  have  passed  a  dangerous  point  of  securing  the 
favor  of  your  parents.  For  us  this  day  can  bring 
nothing  but  joy.  That  troubled  look  on  your  face 
must  give  way  to  one  of  happiness.  Think  !  In  a 
few  days,  as  soon  as  I  am  able  to  be  on  my  feet,  we 
shall  have  to  show  our  bliss  to  the  public.  Already 
a  dispatch  has  been  wired  to  America,  informing  all 
who  know  us  of  our  marriage." 

Dazed  by  the  reiteration  of  these  things,  Gladys 
held  her  breath. 

"  A  dispatch  !"  she  echoed,  faintly. 

"  Exactly.  Shall  I  read  it  to  you  ?"  He  took  a 
paper  from  his  pocket.  Here  it  is,  copied  word  for 
word  : 

"  '  American  society  will  be  surprised  to  learn  of  an  inter- 
esting event  that  has  just  transpired  in  London,  after  being 
kept  a  positive  secret  for  more  than  three  months.  It  is  the 
marriage  of  Gladys  Eleanor,  only  daughter  of  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Henry  Newcombe,  of  Chicago,  to  Mr.  Gilbert  Gray  of 
New  York.  The  young  couple  have  made  their  peace  with 
their  elders  and  are  said  to  be  the  happiest  pair  in  England. 
They  will  remain  abroad  for  some  time  longer,  on  account 
of  Mrs.  Newcombe's  health,  which  continues  delicate.'" 

Gladys  stared  hard  at  her  husband. 

"  And  that  has  been  sent  to  an  American  paper  ?" 
she  repeated. 

"To  a  hundred  of  them — to  the  Associated  Press, 
which  reaches  all  the  great  morning  journals.  Who 


"YOU   MUST   LET  ME   THANK   YOU.**  115 

sent  it  ?  /  did.  It  was  one  of  the  duties  that  fell  to 
me.  I  had  concealed  my  marriage  from  the  world  ; 
it  was  time  I  admitted  it.  The  quickest  way  was 
through  the  newspapers.  So  I  sent  it  to  the  London 
agent,  in  my  own  handwriting." 

The  young  woman  could  only  shake  her  head  in 
bewilderment.  She  thought  of  her  friends  in 
Chicago  and  elsewhere,  agog  over  the  tidings.  But 
it  was  one  of  the  things  that  had  to  come,  and  this 
was,  as  Mr.  Gray  said,  the  easiest  way  to  announce 
it. 

"  Now,  Gladys "  he  began  again,  and  paused 

as  he  saw  her  eyes  open  widely. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked.  "  At  the  end  of 
three  months'  married  life,  should  I  not  call  you  by 
your  Christian  name  when  we  are  alone  ?  You  will 
understand,  if  you  stop  to  think,  how  necessary  all 
these  little  things  may  be  to  our  success  in  the  busi- 
ness we  have  undertaken.  I  cannot  be  your  husband 
part  of  the  day,  and  somebody  else  the  rest.  We 
cannot  have  met  this  week  for  the  first  time,  and  still 
have  been  married  a  hundred  days.  It  is  husband 
and  wife  with  us — and  an  affectionate  husband  and 
wife — or  we  are  irretrievably  lost !  I  agreed  (that 
day  in  Amsterdam)  to  love,  honor,  and  cherish  you 
as  long  as  I  should  live.  It  is  my  duty  to  carry  out 
to  the  full  that  obligation.  And  I  am  ready  to  do  it. 
I  should  go  upon  the  witness  stand,  if  necessary,  and 
raise  my  right  hand  to  Heaven,  to  swear  to  that  day 
and  certificate.  You  are  a  part  of  me— as  much  so 
as  my  arms  or  my  eyes.  That  is  why,  when  I  can 
hear  nothing  from  others  against  my  wife  I  shall 


116  LOTS    GONB    ASTRAY. 

also  refus«  to  hear  anything  of  the  kind  from  her. 
All  this  must  end,  Gladys,  here  and  now." 

At  the  mention  of  her  first  name,  Mrs.  Gray 
started  again.  She  was  much  impressed  with  the 
deep  significance  of  what  she  had  heard.  But,  as 
before,  the  immensity  of  the  responsibilities  she  had 
placed  upon  this  stranger  rose  before  her  like  a  sec- 
tion of  the  Alps.  He  had  taken  upon  himself  a  load 
that  might  break  him  down.  And  for  what?  Was 
there  anything  on  the  other  side  of  the  bargain  to 
compensate  for  the  requirements  he  had  conceived 
so  fully  and  was  so  well  prepared  to  execute  ?  Again 
she  wanted  to  fall  on  her  knees  to  him.  It  seemed 
as  if  no  other  position  was  becoming  to  her  in  his 
presence. 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  she  stammered,  when  she  could  com- 
mand her  voice. 

**I  beg  your  pardon,**  he  interrupted,  very  gently 
but  also  very  firmly.  **  That  name  will  not  do  when  we 
are  in  private." 

She  reddened  and  with  the  greatest  effort  began 
again. 

"  G-i-i-b-e-r-t 

"  Well,  Gladys  ?" 

"You  will — you  must— let  me  thank  you,  only  this 
once,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart !" 

**  I  will  let  you  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  smiled. 
Then,  to  change  the  subject,  he  added,  "  I  want  to 
leave  these  rooms  as  soon  as  I  can.  The  doctor 
thinks  I  can  bear  moving  by  day  after  to-morrow. 
Shall  you  be  ready  for  me  then  ?" 

She  sprang  from  her  chair  with  a  frightened  look. 
Ready  for  him  !  Ready  for  him  /  This  man  talked 


"YOU   MUST   LET  MB  THANK   YOU.  117 

of  coming  to  live  with  her  !  This  man  whom  she 
had  never  spoken  to  till  yesterday  ! 

"  I — don't  know,"  she  ejaculated,  a  syllable  at  a 
time.  "Are  you  not — comfortable — here?" 

He  understood  what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  and 
for  an  instant  he  was  angry. 

"  It  is  not  that,"  he  answered,  "  but  these  quarters 
are  unsuitable  for  a  lady,  and  a  young  husband  and 
his  wife  cannot  be  separated  without  danger  of  crit- 
icism. To-morrow  the  dispatch  printed  this  morn- 
ing in  the  United  States,  will  be  reproduced  in 
London,  and  the  people  who  know  you  here  will 
expect  to  find  you  where  a  wife  belongs,  by  her  hus- 
band's' side." 

It  was  true.  There  was  no  denying  what  was  so 
plain.  She  was  his  wife,  recorded  as  such  on  the 
register,  announced  as  such  to  the  world.  He  had  a 
right  to  demand  that  she  fulfill  her  contracts. 

"I — I  will  talk  with  my  father  about  it,  and— 
make  arrangements,"  she  whispered. 

But  she  had  grown  very  pale. 


US  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

CONFESSING    TO   MAMM>» 

THE  sprain  on  Mr.  Gray's  limb  was  so  far  re- 
covered from,  on  the  fourth  day  after  it  occurred, 
that  he  could  walk  with  the  aid  of  a  cane,  and  he 
took  the  opportunity  of  going  in  a  carriage  to 
the  hotel  where  his  wife  and  her  family  re- 
sided, to  pay  the  visit  to  Mrs.  Newcombe  for  which 
that  lady  was  anxiously  waiting.  In  the  meantime 
he  had  had  another  interview  with  the  Colonel,  and 
two  with  Gladys,  which  served  to  make  them  all  feel 
better  acquainted. 

The  interesting  character  of  a  semi-invalid  served 
him  a  good  turn  on  his  first  meeting  with  his  mother- 
in-law,  acting  as  an  excuse  for  shortening  the  con- 
versation between  them.  Mrs.  Newcombe  met  him 
with  tact,  bidding  him  welcome  in  discreet  terms, 
and  saying  with  great  grace  that  her  daughter's  hus- 
band would  always  seem  a  son  to  her.  She  was  far 
from  strong,  as  could  easily  be  seen,  and  Gilbert 
thought,  in  spite  of  his  resolutions  not  to  dwell  on 
such  things,  that  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  would 
certainly  have  killed  her  outright. 

The  spectacle  of  the  daughter  hiding  her  face  in 
her  mother's  bosom  while  the  latter  relieved  the  sit- 
uation with  her  thoughtful  words,  was  very  affecting. 
Whatever  Gladys  Newcombe  might  have  done,  the 
attachment  to  her  mother  was  too  deep  to  be  ques- 
tioned. And,  at  last,  when  Mrs.  Newcombe  gently 


CONFESSING   TO   MAMMA.  119 

forced  her  child  to  lift  her  eyes  and  receive  a  warm 
kiss,  the  tears  that  flowed  down  the  young  cheeks 
were  tempered  with  a  sad  smile  that  could  not  have 
been  simulated. 

"  I  have  wondered,  for  some  weeks,"  said  the 
sweet  mother  voice,  "  what  made  my  little  girl  so 
absent-minded  and  why  the  laugh  I  was  accustomed 
to  hear  had  been  stilled.  I  tried  to  have  her  consult  a 
physician,  but  she  declared  that  she  was  quite  well, 
and  only  the  victim  of  a  melancholy  that  would  soon 
£>ass  off.  She  should  have  known  her  parents  better 
than  to  conceal  her  marriage  from  them.  However 
we  might  feel,  she  was  sure  of  our  pardon  and  our 
love.  'The  young  heart  cannot  always  control  its 
impulses,  and  a  wise  parent  is  the  best  friend.  But," 
she  added,  "  we  are  very  glad  that  our  daughter 
fixed  her  choice  on  so  good  a  man,  and  one  with 
whom  we  cannot  doubt  she  will  be  happy." 

To  this  Mr.  Gray  replied  in  a  few  words,  impress- 
ing Mrs.  Newcombe  by  his  manner,  which  she  found 
very  agreeable.  Colonel  Newcombe  did  not  open 
his  lips  once  during  the  interview,  but  signified> 
when  appealed  to  by  his  wife's  eyes,  that  he  fully 
agreed  with  her.  The  advice  of  Mr.  Gray's  physi* 
cian  that  he  undergo  no  unnecessary  fatigue  was 
quoted,  and  the  very  brief  meeting  with  his  new 
parents  closed. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  my  rooms  with  me," 
said  Gilbert  to  his  wife,  as  they  passed  out  of  Mrs. 
Newcombe's  parlor.  "  It  is  necessary,"  he  explained. 
"  The  public  eye  is  already  upon  us,  my  dear.  A  re- 
porter of  the  Telegraph  called  this  morning  to  ask 
about  my  marriage,  and  I  had  to  explain  why  I  was 


120  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

living  in  those  chambers  instead  of  with  you.  On 
account  of  the  accident  which  I  sustained,  he  will  in- 
form his  readers  to-morrow,  I  feared  to  frighten  you 
by  being  taken  helpless  into  your  presence.  I  there- 
fore used  the  rooms  to  which  I  had  gone  for  the 
doctor's  examination,  and  have  since  been  unable  to 
leave  them.  You  will  come  with  me  for  that  reason 
— and  for  another.  I  have  had  a  talk  witli  your 
father,  and  we  have  agreed  upon  some  things  which 
I  want  to  discuss  with  you." 

Much  agitated  at  the  prospect,  Gladys  saw  no 
excuse  for  refusing,  and  went  obediently  to  get  ready 
for  the  ride.  The  carriage  was  a  closed  one,  and  she 
met  no  person  on  the  way,  so  far  as  she  knew,  who 
recognized  her.  But  there  was  a  strange  sensation 
in  being  shut  in  with  this  man — of  whom  she  knew 
so  little — that  seemed  to  choke  her. 

She  feared  each  moment  that  he  would  presume 
upon  his  proximity  to  make  some  move  that  she 
dreaded.  It  was  very  well  for  him  to  marry  her — 
that  was  a  most  convenient  act  ;  but  to  claim  the 
privileges  that  go  with  matrimony,  she  felt  was  a  far 
different  thing. 

Gilbert,  however,  to  her  great  joy,  limited  his  re- 
marks to  the  scenes  through  which  they  were  passing, 
and  they  reached  his  rooms,  including  the  climb  of 
the  stairs,  without  special  incident.  There  was  an 
entrance  that  could  be  used  without  passing  through 
the  office  of  Mr.  Yates,  and  they  availed  themselves 
of  it. 

"  Well,  Gladys,"  said  the  husband,  after  locking 
the  door,  to  the  mute  horror  of  the  young  lady,  "  here 
we  are  again." 


CONFESSING   TO   MAMMA.  121 

He  was  undoubtedly  her  lord  and  master  before  the 
law  and  before  the  world,  but  she  was  very  slow  to 
recognize  this  fact  in  its  full  significance.  She  did 
not  take  a  chair,  as  he  waived  his  hand  for  her  to  do, 
but  stood  before  him  a  picture  of  uneasiness. 

"  Why  do  you  lock  the  door  ?"  she  asked.  "  You 
do  not  think  I  will  run  away,  do  you  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  smiled.  "  I  did  it  to  keep  others 
from  entering,  under  any  pretense,  without  being  in- 
vited. Particularly,"  and  here  the  smile  left  his  face, 
"our  good  friend,  the  solicitor." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly. 

"  He  would  not  enter  unannounced,"  she  replied. 
"  I  think  Mr.  Yates  claims  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"Does  he?"  inquired  Gray,  as  if  unprepared  to 
admit  so  much.  "  Then  I  will  give  him  no  oppor- 
tunity to  prove  he  is  not  one.  An  accidental  lift- 
ing of  that  latch,  on  the  plea  that  he  did  not  know 
we  were  here,  is  undesirable  at  this  time.  Conse- 
quently I  have  turned  the  key.  Now,  Gladys  " — 
each  time  he  used  this  name  the  young  wife  started 
— "this  is  not  what  I  asked  you  here  to  talk  about 
There  is  a  matter  of  much  greater  importance.  I 
have  taken  you  for  my  wife.  The  announcement  of 
that  fact  is  spread  over  two  hemispheres.  We  are 
as  solidly  married,  as  far  as  the  law  goes,  as  we  can 
ever  be.  But  if  I  stay  here  and  you  at  your  hotel — 
are  you  listening  ? — doubts  as  to  our  condition  will 
inevitably  arise.  We  must  live  under  one  roof,  we 
must  act  like  married  people  if  we  expect  the  public 
to  believe  what  we  claim." 

Do  her  best,  Gladys  could  not  conceal  the  agita- 
tion that  she  was  experiencing.  She  opened  and 


12fi  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

closed  her  eyes,  looked  at  her  husband  repeatedly, 
and  away  again,  clenched  and  unclenched  her  hands. 
And  he  missed  nothing  of  these  evidences  of  what 
was  passing  in  her  mind. 

"You  might  think,  you  might  remember,"  she  an- 
swered, tremblingly,  after  a  long  pause,  "  how  little  I 
know  of  you,  how  recently  we  have  met.  You  should, 
you  ought,  you  must,  give  me — time.  It  is  not — you 
can  see  it  is  not — the  same  as  if  we  had  been  married 
in  the  usual  way,  as  if  you  had  made  love  to  me  and 
I  had  accepted  you,  and — that  sort  of  thing.  And 
then — there  is  another  reason,"  and  she  uttered  a 
sob — ''another  reason — that  I  cannot  talk  about.  I 
appreciate  all  you  are  doing  for  me — oh!  don't 
doubt  that  ! — but,"  she  fell  back  faintly  into  the  old 
form  of  expression — "  you  should  think,  you  should 
remember !" 

Her  eyes  opened  and  closed  again,  her  hands 
clenched  and  unclenched,  her  lips  were  drawn  in 
until  they  appeared  as  white  as  her  forehead. 

The  husband  did  not  interrupt  her,  for  he  knew  it 
was  best  to  let  her  say  all  she  wished  and  in  her  own 
way. 

"  Excuse  me  for  remarking,"  he  answered,  coldly, 
when  he  saw  she  had  finished,  "  that  the  sentiments 
you  impute  to  me  are  not  complimentary.  As  far  as 
words  can  be  clear  and  distinct,  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand my  position.  I  desire  nothing,  I  would  accept 
nothing,  but  an  opportunity  to  carry  out  the  agree- 
ment I  have  made  with  you.  I  am  not  going  to  be  put, 
nor  will  I  allow  you  to  be  put,  into  any  ridiculous 
position.  We  are  married,  and  we  must  act  as  if  so 
to  all  interested  in  that  fact.  Your  father  and  I  are 


CONFESSING   TO    MAMMA..  123 

in  perfect  accord  in  this  matter.  We  must  live  under 
one  roof.  The  people  who  see  us  nearest,  the  friends 
who  call,  the  servants  who  wait  upon  us,  must  have 
nothing  to  arouse  their  suspicions.  We  must — there 
is  no  other  word,  we  must — occupy  the  same  suite  of 
apartments.  But — understand  me  now,  if  you  never 
do  again — that  suite  shall  always,  when  its  outer 
door  are  closed,  find  you  at  one  end  and  me  at  the 
other  !" 

There  was  an  earnestness  in  the  young  man's 
tone  that  approached  fierceness.  Gladys  was  fright- 
ened as  she  felt  how  thoroughly  he  meant  what  he 
said,  even  while  her  heart  gave  a  leap  of  delight. 
She  did  not  want  him  to  hate  her — she  wanted  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  him. 

"  You  are  speaking  bitterly,"  she  said,  with  a  slight 
touch  of  reproach  in  her  voice. 

"  I  am  using  the  best  words  I  can  to  convey  my 
meaning,"  he  answered,  sharply.  "  There  are  a 
thousand  things  I  ought  to  say,  but  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  say  them.  Suffice  it  that  while  the  world 
calls  me  your  husband,  and  must  find  no  cause  to 
doubt  it,  I  shall  be  only  your  brother  until — until  a 
very  long  time  has  elapsed — if  ever." 

She  shivered  at  the  ominous  ending. 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me,  I  hope,"  she  saidt 
gently 

"  Oh,  no.  It  is  only  that  I  want  you  to  com- 
prehend my  full  intentions,  that  this  conversation 
may  answer  once  for  all.  You  and  I  have  made  a 
bargain  that  most  people  would  not  think  to  our 
credit,  if  they  understood  it  perfectly.  My  reward  is 
to  be  paid  in  cash*-— there  is  no  other  way  to  put  the 


124  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

cold,  bald  fact,  I  shall  take  it  in  cash,  according  te 
the  letter  of  the  bond.  In  return  I  shall  give  you 
the  protection  of  my  name,  which  the  world  thinks 
unsullied,  and  my  companionship — to  whatever  ex- 
tent is  needed  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Grundy.  As  to  the 
rest,  let  us  be  candid.  I  do  not  love  you  ;  neither  do 
you  love  me  ;  and  without  love  I  would  accept  a 
caress  from  no  living  woman,  unless  it  were  in  the 
honest,  open  market  where  such  goods  are  sold  with- 
out pretense.  Gladys,  if  these  things  sound  harshly, 
they  have  more  kindness  than  any  sneaking  evasion." 

Was  it  the  native  discontent  latent  in  woman's 
nature  that  made  her  dissatisfied  at  what  she  had 
most  wished  to  hear? 

"  This  being  the  case,"  he  proceeded,  after  waiting 
to  see  if  she  had  any  comment  to  make,  "  I  think  it 
wise  to  leave  England  immediately  and  go  to  some 
place  where  we  are  not  known,  there  to  learn  the 
habit  of  appearing  before  the  world  in  our  new 
capacity.  Your  father  has  consented,  as  far  as  he  is 
concerned,  that  we  should  go  to  the  south  of  France 
and  stay  until  he  joins  us.  Your  mother  will,  I  am 
sure,  when  he  presents  the  matter  to  her  in  its  right 
light,  feel  as  he  does.  At  the  end  of  a  month  or  so, 
or  sooner  if  an  emergency  arises,  they  will  come  to 
us." 

There  was  no  flaw  in  his  reasoning,  but  Gladys 
felt  her  hands  growing  numb  as  she  thought  of  leav- 
ing her  mother,  and  in  the  sole  company  of  this  man, 
who  was  still  to  her  almost  a  stranger.  She  could 
not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  statements,  and  yet  she 
had  a  nameless  fear  of  the  untried  life  that  lay  Before 


CONFESSING    TO   MAMMA. 

her.  Oh,  it  had  so  many  hardships  in  it,  this  new 
relation  she  had  been  so  eager  to  secure  ! 

"Where  do  you  think  of  going  ?"  she  asked. 

"  To  Cannes,  or  its  vicinity." 

"  I  should  certainly  meet  people  there  whom  I 
know,"  she  said. 

"  But  not  as  many  as  you  would  here.  If  you 
meet  a  few  it  can  do  no  harm.  They  have  got  to 
see  your  husband,  some  time." 

A  rosy  hue  spread  over  the  fair  cheek  at  the  insinu- 
ation, and  the  wife  ceased  to  argue.  She  saw  the 
inconsistency  of  objecting.  She  did  not  wish  to 
seem  opposed  to  her  husband's  wishes  when  there 
was  nothing  vital  at  stake.  The  only  trouble  was 
that  each  step  came  so  hard.  She  must  shut  her 
eyes  and  make  the  plunge,  since  it  was  necessary.* 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "I  will  leave  it  entirely  to 
you.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  been  so  far  from 
mamma,  but  I  won't  mind  that  any  more  than  I  can 
help.  If  we  are  going  it  might  as  well  be  at  once, 
and,  as  you  say,  she  can  be  sent  for  if  necessary. 
And  I  don't  want  you  to  think,"  she  added,  earnestly, 
"  that  I  intend  to  oppose  you  in  anything  that  is 
right.  You  realize  how  new  all  this  is  to  me,  how 
completely  I  have  been  under  the  care  of  my  mother 
and  father — you  realize  it  all,  I  am  sure,  and  you 
must  have  a  great  deal  of  patience  till  I  get  a  little 
used  to  things." 

Gilbert  Gray  could  control  his  tongue  but  not  his 
thoughts  ;  and  he  wondered,  more  than  ever,  how 
this  mother's  girl,  this  father's  pet,  had  strayed  so 
far  from  maidenly  reserve  and  duty  as  to  have  come 


12$  LOVB   GONE   ASTBAY. 

to  her  present  pass.     But  he  shook  off  these  reflec- 
tions with  all  the  force  he  could  muster. 

He  had   not  only  to   forgive — he  must  try  also  to 
forget ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  GOOD-NIGHT,    GLADYS." 

MRS.  NEWCOMBE,  thoroughly  under  the  influence  of 
her  husband,  agreed  with  but  slight  resistance  to  the 
departure  of  the  young  couple,  "  a  little  in  advance 
of  us,"  as  she  put  it,  for  the  exact  date  she  was  to  fol- 
low was  not  yet  arranged.  She  troubled  Mr.  Gray, 
when  he  came  for  his  good-byes,  by  covert  allusions 
to  the  natural  desire  of  young  married  people  to  be 
away  from  their  elders,  where  they  could  enjoy  with 
absolute  freedom  the  society  of  each  other.  She  had 
once  been  of  their  age,  she  told  them,  and  her  mem- 
ory was  good.  Ah  !  they  should  make  the  most  of 
their  youth  and  their  love,  for  years  crept  on  and 
there  would  be  an  end  to  all  things  earthly.  If  only 
their  affection  grew  brighter  with  the  lapse  of  time, 
as  hers  and  her  husband's  had  done,  they  could  ask 
for  nothing  sweeter. 

And  to  this  play  of  words  Gilbert  and  Gladys  lent 
themselves  with  whatever  was  necessary  to  deceive, 
while  the  sober  face  of  Colonel  Newcombe,  with  its 
new  lines  of  pain  and  care,  chided  even  when  it  en- 
couraged the  deception. 


"GOOD-NIGHT,  GLADYS."  127 

At  parting,  Gilbert  bent  above  the  sweet  counte- 
nance of  his  mother-in-law,  and  kissed  her  reverently 
on  the  forehead.  At  which  she  drew  him  down  and 
pressed  her  lips  to  his  cheek,  declaring  at  the  last 
moment  that  Gladys  could  not  be  in  better  hands 
than  his,  and  that  he  had  her  entire  confidence  and 
love. 

"  Here  is  Gladys'  purse — and  yours,"  said  Colonel 
Newcombe,  pressing  it  into  Gray's  hand,  when  they 
retired  to  be  for  a  few  minutes  alone.  "  And  here  is 
a  letter  of  credit  that  you  will  use  at  your  discretion. 
Say  nothing,  I  pray  you,  about  this  matter,  but  con- 
sider yourself,  as  I  told  you  before,  one  of  my  fam- 
ily, and  entitled  to  a  full  share  of  all  I  have.  I  also 
want  you  to  know  that  I  like  you  more  than  I  ever 
dreamed  I  should,  and  that  there  has  been  a  weight 
lifted  from  my  heart  since  I  have  found  to  what  a 
true  man  the  happiness  of  my  child  is  intrusted." 

Nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  any  reply  to  this 
speech,  except  a  simple  "  Thank  you,  Colonel."  and 
an  hour  later  the  Dover  mail  bore  the  wedded  pair 
rapidly  toward  the  Channel.  Gray  was  not  surprised 
because  his  wife  curled  herself  into  a  corner  of  the 
compartment  and  wept  softly  during  most  of  the 
journey.  She  had  enough  to  weep  for,  God  knew  ! 
and  tears,  he  had  often  heard,  were  a  blessing  to 
women  in  trouble.  The  kindest  thing  was  to  ar- 
range her  wraps  about  her  with  a  gentle  hand,  and 
leave  her  to  herself. 

At  the  steamer  pier  he  assisted  her  to  the  ladies' 
cabin,  glad  to  remember  that  the  rules  prevent  men 
and  women  occupying  that  part  of  the  boat  together, 
and  gave  special  directions  to  the  stewardess,  accoiP' 


128  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

panied  with  a  good  fee,  to  make  madame  as  com- 
fortable as  possible.  Then  he  went  into  the  men's 
cabin,  and  lighting  a  cigar,  passed  the  time  before 
reaching  France  in  contemplating  his  future  in 
wreaths  of  smoke. 

When  he  went  for  his  wife,  on  the  arrival  of  the 
steamer  at  Calais,  he  found  that  she  had  dried  her 
tears  for  the  nonce,  in  the  experience  of  a  new  form 
of  discomfort,  for  which  they  offered  no  relief.  She 
had  suffered  from  nausea,  and  presented  a  most  dis- 
consolate spectacle,  as  women  are  apt  to  do  on  such 
occasions.  She  clung  closer  to  her  husband  as  he 
took  her  to  the  train,  and  shivered  as  the  wintry  wind 
blew  around  the  corners,  with  a  suggestion  of  fine 
snow  in  the  air.  When  the  train  started  she  began 
to  talk,  referring  to  her  illness  on  the  boat,  and  show- 
ing her  feminine  nature  by  remarks  in  relation  to 
her  appearance,  to  which  he  gave  suitable  replies. 

The  compartment  was  also  occupied  by  another 
couple,  a  young  man  and  woman  whom  no  one  could 
doubt  were  on  the  first  day  of  their  wedding  trip. 
The  young  woman  nestled  close  to  her  husband,  and 
laughed  when  he  "  tucked  "  the  couvertures  about 
her  feet,  and  felt  occasionally  to  see  if  her  gloved 
hands  were  as  warm  as  they  should  be.  Their  con- 
versation, which  did  not  lag  for  an  instant,  was  con- 
ducted in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  man's  lips  almost — 
and  once  or  twice  quite — touched  his  companion's 
cheek.  Happiness,  the  purest  and  sweetest  that  is 
given  to  the  children  of  men,  was  theirs.  And  the 
couple  who  sat  in  the  other  corner  felt  the  contrast  in 
all  its  intensity. 

This  girl,  thought   Gladys,  might  also  be  leaving 


"GOOD-NIGHT,  GLADYS."  129 

her  father  and  mother  for  the  first  time,  but  in  the 
overpowering  love  for  her  wedded  mate,  she  could 
feel  her  heart  throb  with  joy  even  after  that  parting. 
In  the  new  arms  to  which  she  was  going,  Nature 
would  teach  her  to  forget  for  the  nonce  those  that 
had  so  long  been  her  refuge.  Against  the  breast  of 
this  lover  she  would  find  compensation  for  the  one 
which  had  nursed  her  baby  lips.  With  this  cham- 
pion to  fight  her  battles,  she  could  spare  the  father 
who  had  guarded  her  from  every  danger  since  her 
little  feet  took  their  first  step. 

"  And  I  !"  reflected  Gladys.  "  I  !  What  have  I 
thrown 'away — what  have  I  gained — in  exchange  for 
all  this  ?  If  only  the  past  could  come  again,  and  I 
could  see  these  things  as  I  see  them  now  !" 

Gilbert  thought  of  it  all,  too.  He  saw,  as  in  a 
mirror,  what  he  might,  under  happier  conditions, 
have  enjoyed.  But  the  beggar  who  watches  an  im- 
perial progress  does  not  think  ill  of  the  emperor  ; 
and  while  grinding  his  teeth  together  in  an  effort  to 
forget,  he  had  only  good  wishes  for  the  ecstatic 
couple  whose  delight  mocked  his  contrasted  state. 

It  had  been  decided  to  remain  over  night  in  Paris, 
and  three  pleasant  rooms  at  the  Grand  Hotel  had 
been  engaged  by  wire.  A  bright  fire  was  burning 
in  the  grate  of  the  sitting-room,  where  shortly  after 
their  arrival  a  pleasant  repast  was  served.  Gilbert 
asked  his  wife,  when  the  dinner  was  cleared  away, 
if  she  would  like  to  take  a  ride  or  a  walk,  and  she 
replied  that  the  journey  had  tired  her  a  little,  and  she 
believed  she  did  not  care  to.  She  said,  however, 
that  he  must  feel  quite  free  to  go  if  he  wished,  and 


130  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

he  thanked  her,  saying  he  believed  a  stroll  of  an 
hour  would  do  him  good. 

When  he  returned,  not  one  hour  but  three  later, 
he  was  surprised  to  find  her  still  up. 

"You  should  have  gone  to  bed,  my  dear,"  he  said, 
kindly. 

"  I — I  will  go  now,"  she  stammered.  "  I — I  did 
not — know — which  room — was  mine." 

He  laughed,  a  little  uneasily  ;  she  looked  sadder 
than  he  liked  to  see  her. 

"  The  choice  is  for  you  to  make,"  said  he.  "  Let 
us  go  and  inspect  them." 

But  she  remained  by  the  open  grate,  and  let  him 
go  alone. 

"  It  is  hard  to  choose,"  he  said,  when  he  returned, 
"  but,  on  the  whole,  I  think  the  further  one  is  a 
little  the  best,  and  I  suggest  that  you  take  that." 

He  was  so  honest,  so  sincere,  that  her  confidence 
made  a  great  leap. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  have  the  best,"  she  an- 
swered, looking  hard  at  the  fire.  "  It  seems  to  me 
that  it  is  you,  Mr.  Gray " 

"  Not  Mr.  Gray,  but  Gilbert,"  he  interpolated. 

"It  seems  to  me"  (she  avoided  any  name  at  all) 
"  t\\a\.you  ought  to  have  the  best.  I  owe  so  much  to 
you.  I  hope  you  think  me  grateful " 

He  broke  in  upon  her  again. 

"  I  cannot  hear  another  word  like  that,"  he  said, 
"now  or  at  any  time.  Come,  it  is  late.  Good- 
night." 

She  bit  her  lip  at  the  reproof,  gathered  up  the 
wraps  that  lay  about  the  room  and  turned  to  leave. 


"GOOD-NIGHT,    GLADYS."  131 

At  the  threshold  she  faced  about,  with  hei  hand  ex- 
tended. 

"  Good-night,  Mr. — I  mean,  Gilbert,"  she  said,  with 
a  supreme  effort. 

"Good-night,  Gladys,"  he  answered,  taking  the 
hand  and  releasing  it  at  once.  "  Sleep  well,  and  as 
late  as  you  like.  Remember,  we  do  not  take  the 
train  till  evening." 

The  door  closed  behind  her,  and  for  an  instant 
Gilbert  Gray's  head  fell  into  the  palms  of  his  hands, 
while  a  stifled  groan  issued  from  his  lips.  Then  he 
roused  himself  and  took  a  few  steps  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"  If  I  had  known  how  hard  this  would  be,  I  never 
could  have  agreed  to  it,"  he  muttered.  "  But  one 
gets  used  to  everything  in  time.  Mrs.  Gray — '  Mrs. 
Gray,'  ha,  ha  ! — my  wife — Gladys — what  can  it  be 
but  a  nightmare  from  which  I  shall  pass  to  a  quieter 
sleep  as  I  get  used  to  my  surroundings  ?  The  days 
will  probably  come  when  I  am  accustomed  to  her 
presence,  and  she  has  ceased  to  be  annoyed  at  mine. 
And  the  price  I  bargained  for  will  be  paid  with 
promptness,  so  much  money  in  exchange  for  a  name  ! 
I  have  a  part  of  it  here,  in  my  pocket,  honestly  de- 
livered by  her  father.  He  will  fulfill  his  contracts 
and  I  must  fulfill  mine." 

He  stretched  his  arms  above  his  head  and  closed 
his  eyes  with  a  prolonged  sigh. 

"  I  must  not  fail  in  one  jot  or  tittle,  no,  not  in  one. 
She  is  my  wife,  and  has  been  for  more  than  a  hundred 
days — I  am  prepared  to  swear  it  on  all  the  Bibles  in 
Christendom.  Her  child — when  it  is  born — is  my 
legitimate  offspring.  Her  child " 


132  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

The  stretched  arms  fell  slowly  to  the  speaker's  side, 
as  another  thought  came.  A  thought  that  made  his 
brain  to  whirl  and  his  teeth  to  chatter,  that  pointed 
its  bony  finger  at  him  and  hissed  defiance  from  its 
gumless  teeth  : 

*'  The  real  father  of  that  child  is  doubtless  living,  and 
you  may  yet  find  him  standing  across  your  path  .'" 


CHAPTER   XV. 

LIFE    ON    THE    RIVIERA. 

THERE  is  almost  nothing  to  which  the  human 
mind  cannot  grow  accustomed.  The  wretch  sen- 
tenced to  twenty  years  in  prison  finds  the  first  month 
harder  than  any  six  that  follow  it.  Gladys  Gray 
gradually  became  used  to  the  presence  of  her  hus- 
band, which  at  first  gave  her  such  vivid  alarm.  The 
thoughtfulness  with  which  he  treated  her  contributed 
much  to  this  result.  She  grew  to  regard  him  with- 
out apprehension,  to  consider  his  proximity  no  men- 
ace to  that  tranquillity  of  mind  she  had  so  much  need 
of  regaining.  He  inflicted  his  company  on  her  just 
as  much  as  was  expedient  for  the  role  he  had  to 
play,  and  never  any  more  than  that.  To  the  world 
he  presented  the  spectacle  of  a  young  and  loving 
husband.  When  the  curtains  had  shut  out  the  eyes 
of  mankind  he  was  only  the  respectful  friend,  the 
obliging  and  unobtrusive  attendant. 


LIFE   ON   THE    RIVIERA.  133 

Gilbert,  also,  began  to  find  his  new  position  easier 
as  time  passed  on.  But  for  the  spectre  that  had 
been  raised — a  possible  appearance  of  the  father  of 
his  child — he  might  have  settled  into  a  dull  sort  of 
contentment  with  his  lot.  That  spectre,  like  others 
of  its  ilk,  came  and  went,  appearing  sometimes  in  a 
guise  that  drove  sleep  from  his  eyelids,  and  then  van- 
ishing for  days.  When  the  ghost  haunted  him  most 
severely  he  would  vow  to  make  inquiries  at  one  of 
the  sources  from  which  information  might  be  ob- 
tained, and  learn  something  of  the  man  who  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  lapse  in  virtue  of  this  lovely  and 
till  then  innocent  creature.  He  wanted  to  learn 
whether  this  fellow  might  not  return  to  annoy  the 
woman  he  had  so  greatly  wronged  ;  whether  he 
really  knew  the  extent  of  the  harm  he  had  done  her  ; 
whether  his  low  mind  might  not  lead  him,  in  the  lat- 
ter case,  to  attempt  to  gain  some  advantage  through 
the  fears  he  could  excite. 

Mr.  Gray  felt  that  he  ought  to  know  these  things, 
in  order  to  make  preparation  should  any  annoyance 
be  inflicted  upon  his  wife.  He  had  heard  of  the  ex- 
tent to  which  blackmail  has  sometimes  been  carried. 
When  he  tried  to  think,  however,  of  the  best  way  to 
gain  this  knowledge,  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that 
his  task  was  a  difficult  one. 

He  had  expressly  said  to  Mr.  Yates,  when  in  Lon- 
don, that  he  wanted  no  conversation  with  him  in  ref- 
erence to  that  terrible  page  in  his  wife's  history  ; 
that  he  wished  it  closed  forever,  and  forgotten.  To 
write  for  the  information  he  desired,  after  this 
avowal,  was  likely  to  be  attended  with  a  correspond- 
ing reply,  besides  involving  a  sacrifice  of  personal 


134  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

dignity  from  which  he  shrank.  Besides,  it  would  be 
suicidal  to  put  on  paper  the  questions  he  wished  an- 
swered, which  might  fall  by  some  mischance  into 
other  hands  than  those  for  which  they  were  intended, 
and  lead  to  infinite  mischief. 

When  Colonel  Newcombe  came  he  might  be  asked, 
but  there  was  no  certainty  that  he  would  be  willing 
to  answer.  At  best  the  inquiry  would  arouse  the 
most  painful  feelings  in  the  breast  of  that  old  man, 
already  broken  in  spirit  and  struggling  to  outlive 
the  crushing  blow  he  had  received. 

Nothing  else  was  left  but  to  appeal  to  Gladys 
directly,  and  of  all  the  means  proposed  this  seemed 
the  most  contemptible  and  cruel. 

So  the  months  passed,  and  the  spectre  that  had 
been  raised  grew  less  and  less  impressive  in  his  bear- 
ing. Colonel  Newcombe  and  his  wife  were  now  at 
Cannes.  Mrs.  Newcombe  had  been  made  aware  of 
her  daughter's  condition,  and  it  was  quite  pathetic 
to  note  the  joy  with  which  she  received  the  informa- 
tion. She  congratulated  Gladys  upon  the  coming 
event,  and  dilated  at  great  length  upon  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  the  unique  occasion  when  she 
herself  had  passed  through  a  similar  experience. 
She  reproached  her  husband  because  he  did  not  ex- 
hibit as  much  delight  as  she  thought  he  ought,  and 
beamed  rapturously  on  Gilbert  as  she  revealed  to 
him  the  fact  that  she  was  possessed  of  the  great 
secret. 

"  Nothing  so  unites  a  married  pair  as  the  presence 
of  a  child,"  she  insisted.  "  Gladys  is  still  very 
young,  but  she  is  in  good  health  and  nothing  is  to  be 
apprehended.  You  must  be  a  very  happy  man,  Mr, 


LIFE    ON    THE    EIVIEEA.  135 

Gray.  I  am  sure  it  is  no  sin  to  say  you  ought  to  be 
envied." 

The  expected  event  was  a  sufficient  excuse  to 
Gladys  to  decline  the  invitations  to  various  society 
functions  gotten  up  by  the  English,  American  and 
other  residents,  that  poured  in  later  in  the  season. 
It  did  not,  however,  prevent  every  woman  she  knew 
from  calling  upon  her,  more  frequently  than  they 
would  otherwise  have  done,  and  bringing,  with  suit- 
able and  often  very  lame  apologies,  all  the  friendc  of 
the  same  sex  they  chose. 

Each  of  these  women  who  had  the  pleasure  of 
being  presented  to  Mr.  Gray  pronounced  him  "too 
sweet  to  live,"  and  went  away  convinced  that  a  hap- 
pier man  did  not  exist  on  the  continent.  He  was 
just  dignified  enough,  they  all  declared,  and  so  de- 
lightfully reserved  in  the  presence  of  his  wife  and 
her  friends.  They  were  willing  to  forgive  him  for 
having  a  fortune  smaller  than  that  of  his  bride,  which 
rumor  had  taken  pains  to  announce,  though  the  full 
extent  of  his  poverty  was  never  known.  For  a  man 
like  that,  several  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  boldly 
averred,  they  would  resign  their  single  blessedness 
without  hesitation. 

In  short,  removed  almost  wholly  from  society,  for 
the  reasons  stated,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  were  among 
the  best  liked  residents  of  the  Riviera,  during  the 
winter  they  remained  there,  and  received  countless 
smiles  when  they  took  their  daily  drive  along  the 
fashionable  promenade. 

To  Gilbert's  suggestions,  made  on  various  occa- 
sions to  Colonel  Newcombe,  that  he  wanted  some- 
thing for  his  idle  hands  to  do,  the  reply  was  always 


136  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

the  same — he  must  wait  till  another  summer.  At 
present  he  must  not  leave  his  wife.  When  the — the 
right  time — came,  they  would  all  set  sail  for  the 
United  States,  and  if  the  young  man  wished  to  put 
his  brain  to  work  an  opportunity  would  be  furnished 
him  in  the  exciting  grain  market  of  Chicago.  The 
Colonel  was  in  constant  communication  with  London, 
by  wire,  and  was  arranging  to  take  part,  so  Gilbert 
understood,  in  various  deals  that  were  under  way. 
So  long  as  his  daughter  was  in  her  present  state  he 
would  not  leave  Europe,  although  he  had  previously 
expected  to  take  a  run  over  to  America  for  a  couple 
of  months. 

In  spite  of  the  terrible  suffering  he  had  undergone, 
the  father  was  still  passionately  devoted  to  Gladys, 
perhaps  even  more  so  than  before.  She  was  his  only 
child.  Beside  her  lie  had  nothing  but  the  delicate 
wife,  who  was  fading  slowly  away  before  his  eyes. 
He  had  consented  to  the  scheme  of  hiding  Gladys' 
fault  by  this  marriage,  and  there  was  no  business 
that  could  weigh  in  his  mind  with  the  importance  of 
making  that  marriage  a  success. 

The  conduct  of  the  young  couple  was  so  circum- 
spect when  others  were  present  that  even  the  father 
had  no  suspicion  of  the  manner  in  which  they  avoided 
each  other  in  private.  He  supposed  that  the  youth 
of  one  and  the  beauty  of  the  other  had  met  their 
natural  affinity,  in  spite  of  the  disagreeable  past. 
They  strolled  together  up  and  down  the  verandas 
of  the  hotel  and  in  the  paths  adjacent  ;  they  talked 
as  freely  at  table  as  the  circumstances  would  lead 
one  to  expect.  They  were  a  great  deal  alone  in  the 
special  suite  they  occupied.  How  was  the  father  to 


LIFE   ON   THE   RIVIERA.  137 

know  that  Gilbert  buried  himself  in  his  books  and 
Gladys  in  her  fancy  work,  without  a  single  word 
passing  between  them  for  hours. 

Like  others  who  met  them,  Colonel  Newcombe 
grew  more  and  more  impressed  with  his  son-in-law 
He  would  not  have  believed,  until  he  had  seen  it, 
that  such  a  thorough  gentleman  would  accept  that 
questionable  place  and  fill  it  in  such  a  perfect  man- 
ner. 

Gladys  had  never  returned  to  the  full  gayety  of 
her  girlhood  days,  and  her  father  had  no  reason  to 
expect  that  she  would.  It  must  be  a  long  time  be- 
fore she  could  outlive  the  memory  of  what  she  had 
passed  through.  Besides  she  was  now  a  wife,  and 
would  soon  be  a  mother.  The  change  in  her  man- 
ner was  not  more  than  he  felt  the  facts  should  lead 
him  to  anticipate. 

The  life  of  the  Grays  was  singularly  regular.  One 
day  was  very  nearly  like  another.  Gilbert  rose  earli- 
est and  generally  took  a  short  walk  before  breakfast. 

On  returning  he  found  Gladys  in  their  mutual 
sitting-room,  and  ordered  the  coffee  and  rolls  to  be 
sent  up.  Across  the  table  a  few  words  were  ex- 
changed, referring  to  the  weather,  to  something  in 
the  newspaper,  or  to  slight  matters  connected  with 
the  life  at  Cannes.  After  the  first  week  they  were 
surprisingly  at  their  ease  during  these  repasts. 

While  no  demonstration  of  affection  was  thought 
of  by  either,  there  was  nothing  like  coldness.  Friends 
who  did  not  mean  to  get  too  intimate,  this  they  were 
and  no  more.  They  kept  out  of  each  other's  way, 
and  yet  took  good  care  that  they  should  not  seem  to 
do  so.  During  the  morning  they  met  Mrs.  New- 


138  LOVE   GONE    ASTBAY. 

combe  and  the  Colonel,  for  an  hour  or  so,  oftenest  in 
the  rooms  occupied  by  the  latter,  on  account  of  the 
invalid  character  of  the  mother.  Here  Gladys  and 
Mrs.  Newcombe  talked  about  the  thousand  little 
things  that  interest  women,  while  her  father  and  Gil- 
bert discussed  such  events  as  concern  the  business 
and  political  world. 

The  noon  repast,  as  well  as  the  dinner,  was  usually 
taken  in  common,  also  in  the  Colonel's  apartments,  on 
account  of  the  state  of  his  wife's  health.  In  the  after- 
noon the  men  went,  frequently  together,  to  the 
Casino,  sometimes  for  a  walk  in  the  town.  At  five 
o'clock  Gilbert  took  his  wife  regularly  to  drive,  occa- 
sionally with  her  parents  as  companions,  but  usually 
alone.  At  a  seasonable  hour  the  Grays  separated  for 
the  night,  without  effusion,  with  a  simple  word  indi- 
cating that  one  or  the  other  was  about  to  retire. 
The  suite  they  occupied  had  but  one  entrance,  and 
not  even  the  servants  suspected  how  thoroughly  their 
lives  were  lived  apart. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    FAMILY    SECRET. 

THE  only  break  in  the  regularity  of  the  winter 
came  with  a  visit  of  Mr.  Yates,  who  took  a  brief  vaca- 
tion from  the  arduous  duties  of  his  profession,  and 
made  it  the  occasion  for  transacting  a  little  business 
with  Colonel  Newcombe,  as  well  as  renewing  his 


THE   FAMILY    SECRET.  139 

acquaintance  with  Mr.  Gray.  The  solicitor  was 
entirely  unannounced,  as  far  as  Gilbert  knew,  though 
it  appeared  afterwards  that  the  Colonel  had  been 
expecting  him  for  some  time.  His  presence  did  not 
bring  much  pleasure  to  the  younger  man,  who,  how- 
ever, endeavored  to  treat  him  with  due  politeness, 
and  succeeded  fairly  well.  It  was  distressing  to  sit 
at  dinner,  as  he  was  several  times  compelled  to  do, 
with  an  outsider  who  could  probe  the  depth  of  his 
degradation  and  accuse  him  in  his  thoughts  of  what 
he  would  not  for  untold  wealth  have  had  revealed. 
Colonel  Newcombe  seemed  to  have  something  of  the 
kind  in  his  own  mind,  also,  and  acted  in  a  constrained 
manner  during  the  repast. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  unintentional  mission  of  Mr. 
Yates  to  remind  them  both,  as  well  as  the  young  lady 
herself,  that  he  had  invented  and  carried  out  the 
plan  under  which  everything  was  working  so  har- 
moniously, and  that  they  ought  to  be  thankful  to 
him  for  it.  Naturally  they  did  not  like  this,  and  the 
time  when  the  solicitor  must  return  to  London  was 
looked  forward  to  without  regret  by  both. 

On  the  last  day  that  Yates  dined  with  them,  Mrs. 
Gray  was  indisposed,  and  he  expressed  his  regret  in 
such  warm  terms  that  her  husband  felt  a  kind  of  per- 
sonal  affront.  The  remarks  were  met  in  perfect  si- 
lence by  the  gentlemen,  and  it  was  left  to  Mrs.  New« 
combe  to  reply,  in  her  innocent,  courteous  manner. 

"  I  am  going  to-morrow  morning,  on  an  early 
train,"  said  Mr.  Yates  to  Gray,  when  he  happened  to 
meet  him  alone,  later  in  the  evening.  "I  have  busi- 
ness at  Avignon,  and  shall  not  see  you  again.  So 
good-bye." 


140  LOVE   GONE   ASTEAT. 

He  put  out  his  hand,  and  as  he  knew  no  reason 
under  the  skies  why  he  should  not  accept  it,  Mr. 
Gray  did  so,  coolly  and  silently. 

The  solicitor  seemed  surprised  at  such  a  leave-tak- 
ing, and  lingered,  instead  of  ascending  the  stairs  to 
his  room,  as  he  had  made  a  movement  to  do. 

"  You're  all  very  comfortable,  I  see,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  motion  of  his  head  toward  the  other  side  of 
the  hotel.  "  Everything  as  cosy  as  a  cat  in  a  rug, 
eli  ?  Never  been  sorry,  have  you  ?  Well,  I  told  you 
you  wouldn't.  You  ought  to  feel  nicely  toward  me, 
for  putting  you  into  such  a  pleasant  position." 

These  expressions  grated  fearfully  on  the  sensi- 
bilities of  the  man  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
and  he  grew  white  about  the  lips. 

"  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  what  I  once  said  to 
you,"  he  answered.  "  There  are  things  about  which 
I  never  talk,  and  of  which  I  try  not  even  to  think  ! 
Your  part  in  them  was  ended  long  ago.  I  ask  you 
once  more  never  to  allude  to  them  in  my  presence." 

Mr.  Yates  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  drummed 
aggravatingly  on  the  railing  of  the  stairs  by  which 
he  stood. 

"There  must  be  things  you  would  like  to  know," 
he  answered,  with  a  spice  of  revenge  in  his  tone. 
"  There  are  questions  which  must  enter  your  head 
that  no  one  else  you  would  wish  to  inquire  of  could 
answer." 

It  was  the  Spectre  again  !  The  familiar  ghost  of 
the  only  doubt  that  troubled  the  husband's  mind. 
In  the  presence  of  this  Horror  he  was  silent. 

"You  have  taken  a  dislike  to  me  for  some  reason, 
I  can't  guess  what,"  said  Mr.  Yates.  "The  only 


TEE   FAMILY   SECBET.  141 

explanation  is  the  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to 
hate  those  who  show  us  the  greatest  kindness.  You 
remember  I  alluded  to  that  when  your  friend  Neil- 
ing — he  called  himself  Neiling,  I  believe — abused 
you  after  you  had  saved  him  from  beggary.  By-the- 
way,  I  saw  him  in  London  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  he 
is  thinking  of  coming  this  way  soon.'\ 

Mr.  Gray  clenched  his  hands  and  bit  his  nether 
lip.  This  man  was  getting  a  sweet  revenge  for  the 
sharp  words  addressed  to  him  once. 

"  You  misapprehend,  you  misconstrue  what  I  said," 
replied  Gray,  stumbling  in  his  words.  "  It  is  not  a 
hatred1  for  any  special  person,  but  an  absolute  neces- 
sity that  dictates  my  course.  I  have  done  all  I 
agreed  to  do.  If  permanent  good  is  to  follow,  every- 
thing that  has  passed  must  be  buried  a  thousand 
fathoms  beneath  the  surface,  never  to  be  resurrected. 
Your  allusions  to  them  sting  me  like  fire." 

The  solicitor  played  with  the  seals  of  his  watch- 
chain,  and  regarded  the  other  with  a  furtive  expres- 
sion. 

'  And  before  the  door  of  that  Past  is  closed,"  he 
asked,  "  is  there  nothing— are  you  sure  there  is  noth- 
ing upon  which  you  have  a  curiosity  to  gaze  ?" 

It  was  a  trying  moment.  The  young  husband  was 
torn  between  anxiety  to  know  the  father  of  his  wife's 
unborn  child,  and  his  intense  dislike  to  accept  a 
favor  from  this  man.  He  vacillated  for  several 
seconds,  showing  in  every  lineament  the  torture  he 
was  feeling. 

"Tell  me  only  this,"  he  said,  at  last.  "Is  there 
any  likelihood  that  the  person  about  whom  I  might 
inquire  will  ever  attempt  to  trouble  me — or  her  ?" 


142  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAY. 

Mr.  Yates  smiled  at  the  inquiry. 

"  Only  the  gods  can  foresee  the  future, "  he  said. 
"  Let  us  certainly  hope  not.  If  he  ever  does,  however, 
call  on  me  to  deal  with  him.  Perhaps  you  would 
rather  suffer  his  annoyances,  though,"  he  added,  in  a 
faint  vein  of  irony. 

The  alternative  was  getting  too  strong  for  Mr. 
Gray. 

"I  think  we  will  call  the  Door  closed,"  he  said, 
gravely,  and  with  a  firmer  tone.  "  I  have  taken  cer- 
tain risks,  and  while  I  hope  for  the  best  I  will  not 
shrink  from  my  fate.  If  I  need  you,"  he  added,  as  a 
sort  of  sop  at  the  end,  "  I  can  write." 

The  solicitor  shook  his  head  slowly,  but  Mr.  Gray 
said  good-bye  to  him  and  walked  toward  his  own 
apartments.  His  wife  had  not  arisen  from  the  bed 
to  which  she  had  gone  early  in  the  afternoon,  under 
the  plea  of  a  severe  headache,  and  he  paused  at  her 
door  before  going  to  his  bedroom  to  ask  in  a  low 
voice  if  there  was  anything  he  could  do  for  her. 

"  Open  the  door  a  little,"  was  the  strange  reply 
that  greeted  his  ears. 

He  opened  it,  two  or  three  inches,  with  a  guilty 
feeling,  as  if  it  were  the  room  of  some  woman  toward 
whom  he  meditated  a  wrong. 

"  What  time  is  it  ?"  asked  Gladys. 

"  Ten  o'clock." 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?" 

She  had  never  shown  the  least  inquisitiveness  be- 
fore as  to  his  movements,  or  the  hours  he  kept,  and 
he  had  stayed  out  much  later. 

"Only  into  the  reading  room.     And    just  now   I 


THE   FAMILY    8ECBET.  143 

have  been  talking  a  little  with  Mr.  Yates,  who  is 
going  in  the  morning." 

"  Open  the  door  further  so  I  can  see  you,"  said 
Gladys. 

Conquering  an  inclination  to  fly  the  place,  and  still 
with  a  feeling  resembling  an  amateur  burglar's  on 
his  first  housebreaking  expedition,  Gilbert  Gray 
slowly  pushed  back  the  door.  He  saw  his  wife  lying 
in  her  bed,  her  head  enveloped  in  a  white  bandage, 
and  sunken  in  the  depths  of  the  pillows.  One  of  her 
arms,  encased  in  a  night  dress,  or  what  he  took  to  be 
one,  lay  outside  the  white  coverlet. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  softly. 

"  I — I  am  going  to  bed,"  he  answered,  looking 
about  the  room  from  sheer  curiosity.  He  saw  the 
clothes  she  had  worn,  heaped  in  pretty  disarrange- 
ment on  the  sofa  and  the  chairs.  A  pair  of  white  slip- 
pers lay  by  the  side  of  the  couch.  The  dainty  things 
that  women  love  to  surround  themselves  with  were 
to  be  discerned  on  every  hand. 

"  I  hope  your  headache  is  better,"  he  added,  after 
a  moment. 

"  It  is  much  better.  Gilbert,"  he  started  at  the 
word,  uttered  by  that  woman  in  dishabille,  "  are  you 
angry  with  me  for  anything  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  he  replied.  "  Why  should  I  be  an- 
gry with  you  ?" 

She  put  the  hand  that  lay  outside  the  cover  to  her 
lips  and  bit  nervously  at  her  nails. 

"  Nothing,"  she  said,  gulping  down  a  sob.  "  Noth- 
ing particular,  only  you  look  troubled.  I'm  sure 
(sob)  I  mean  to  be  very  good  to  you,  and  some  time 
(another  sob)  I  mean  to  be  much  better  than  I  have 


144  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

ever  been.  Just  now,  you  know,  I  am  not  well  (sob); 
and — and  you'll  forgive  me  if  I  act  a  little  (sob)  dis- 
tant, won't  you  ?" 

He  could  not  help  feeling  that  the  accusations  she 
heaped  upon  herself  were  more  applicable  to  him, 
but  he  wished  of  all  things  to  avoid  a  debate.  He 
answered  hurriedly  that  she  was  nervous,  and  that 
she  had  best  let  him  ring  for  her  maid,  who  had  a 
room  in  another  part  of  the  hotel.  She  replied  that 
she  did  not  want  any  one,  and  that  she  was  recover- 
ing as  ';:? idly  as  could  be  expected,  and  would  be 
quite  well  the  next  morning.  At  which  he  congrat- 
ulated her,  and  disappeared  before  she  could  find  an 
excuse  to  prolong  the  conversation. 

Within  a  day  or  two  he  began  talking  of  leaving 
Cannes  and  going  to  Vienna.  As  he  had  no  partic- 
ular reason  to  give,  Gladys  demurred  at  first,  for  she 
did  not  wish  to  be  separated  any  sooner  than  was 
necessary  from  her  mother,  and  feared  Mrs.  New- 
combe  would  be  disinclined  to  travel.  But  when 
Gilbert  recurred  to  the  subject  the  second  time  she 
made  no  more  objection.  Luckily  Mrs.  Newcombe 
had  also  grown  tired  of  Cannes,  and  was  much  pleased 
at  the  prospect  of  a  change.  Early  in  April,  there- 
fore, the  Newcombes  and  the  Grays  were  comfort- 
ably domiciled  at  one  of  the  best  Viennese  hotels, 
and  Gilbert  breathed  easier. 

If  William  Neiling  was  coming  to  the  Riviera  it 
would  be  a  blessing  not  to  meet  him  ;  and  Vienna  was 
not  a  place  at  which  Mr.  Vates,  solicitor,  of  London, 
was  likely  to  be  called  by  any  of  the  exigencies  of 
his  profession. 


AERIVAL   OF   THE   BABY.  145 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ARRIVAL  OF   THE   BABY. 

As  the  time  grew  nearer  when  Mrs.  Gray  was  to 
become  a  mother  her  husband  found  his  position 
growing  more  and  more  peculiar.  Mrs.  Newcombe 
never  tired  of  talking  to  him  of  the  impending  event, 
endeavoring  to  impress  upon  him  the  immense  grati- 
tude due  from  a  man  to  a  woman  who  tenders  him 
such  "proofs  of  her  affection."  The  gentle  hints  as 
to  the  duties  of  a  coming  father  nearly  drove  him 
wild.  He  could  only  respond  as  politely  as  possible, 
and  make  his  escape  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  As 
for  the  Colonel,  he  behaved  extremely  well.  Though 
full  of  anxiety  he  forebore  to  question  or  to  advise. 
He  showed  his  regard  for  Gilbert  in  a  thousand 
agreeable  ways,  and  strengthened  the  resolutions  of 
his  son-in-law  to  fulfill  the  obligation  he  had  assumed 
at  whatever  sacrifice. 

A  month  in  Vienna  was  followed  by  a  fortnight  in 
Dresden,  and  then  a  proposition  to  go  to  Sweden 
for  the  accouchement  was  carried  out.  Two  of  the 
ablest  physicians  in  Stockholm,  with  a  retinue  of 
nurses,  were  engaged  by  Mr.  Gray,  after  a  consulta- 
tion with  Gladys,  and  the  date  of  the  expected  event 
communicated  to  them  as  nearly  as  might  be.  The 
husband  was  kindness  itself, and  the  on5y  times  when 
he  had  to  speak  with  an  air  of  authority  was  when 
Gladys  tried  to  thank  or  to  compliment  him.  There 


146  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

must  be  nothing  of  that  sort,  he  said  ;  nothing  what- 
ever ( 

When  they  finally  brought  him  a  tiny  morsel  of 
humanity,  swathed  in  flannels,  Gilbert  Gray's  feel- 
ings were  so  intense  that  he  had  no  need  to  simulate 
agitation.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  been 
brought  into  contact  with  that  great  miracle,  com- 
pared to  which  the  changing  of  water  to  wine,  and 
even  the  raising  of  the  dead,  sink  into  insignificance. 
He  knew  that  the  breath  of  God  had  been  blown 
into  these  tender  nostrils,  unmindful  of  the  fact  that 
man's  sin  aided  in  working  the  wonder.  They  told 
him  that  the  mother  was  "  doing  well,"  and  that  he 
could  see  her  in  a  few  hours  ;  but  he  kept  out  of  the 
sick  room  till  the  third  day,  a  proceeding  which  won 
him  golden  opinions  from  the  blonde-haired  nurses, 
who  thought  him  a  model  of  consideration. 

When  he  did  go  in,  and  was  left  alone  a  few  min- 
utes with  his  wife,  he  could  not  speak.  He  was 
frightened  to  see  her  so  pale,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  that  stifled 
him. 

Gladys,  much  the  calmer  of  the  twain  at  first,  sur- 
veyed his  face  with  deep  interest.  Like  all  young 
mothers,  she  felt  herself  a  superior  creature  for  what 
she  had  passed  through  ;  and  yet  so  much  depended 
on  the  attitude  of  this  man's  mind  ! 

"You  do  not  say  anything!"  she  remarked,  wist- 
fully. 

"  What  can  I  say  ?"  he  answered. 

"You  surely  are  glad  I  am  doing  nicely." 

"  Oh,  yes  !" 

She  closed  her  eyes  with  a  gesture  of  despair. 


ARRIVAL   OF   THE   BABY.  147 

u  Ah  !"  she  cried.  "  You  are  going  to  hate  me  for- 
ever !" 

"  No,  no  !  I  am  only  stunned  a  little,  overwhelmed. 
I  do  not  hate  you,  Gladys,  and  I  never  have." 

She  caught  one  of  his  hand  and,  in  spite  of  him, 
covered  it  with  kisses. 

"And  my  little  girl — you  do  not  hate  her,  either?" 

"I  love  your  little  girl  already,"  he  said,  gravely. 

A  delighted  expression  came  over  her  countenance. 

"Then — perhaps — the  time  will  come  when  you 
will  even  learn  to  like — me." 

He  took  the  hand  from  her  gently,  though  she 
struggled  to  retain  it,  and  told  her  she  ought  not  to 
say  such  things — that  she  knew  she  ought  not.  He 
liked  her  very  much.  Nothing  she  had  done — since 
her  marriage — had  lessened  the  regard  he  had  for 
her.  She  must  not  continue  to  fill  her  head  with 
wild  imaginations. 

"  But  that  baby  girl  of  mine — that  child  that  is 
not  yours — she  will  always  stand  between  us,"  she 
answered,  with  a  groan. 

"  Hush  !"  he  replied,  glancing  fearfully  around 
the  room.  "  You  shall  not  rave  in  this  manner. 
That  child  is  mine!  Do  you  understand?  I  am  its 
father  as  surely  as  you  are  its  mother.  Let  any  one 
say  otherwise  who  dares  !" 

She  tried  to  take  his  hand  again,  and  would,  had 
she  possessed  the  strength,  have  crawled  to  his  feet. 

"There  never  was  another  man  like  you,"  she 
murmured,  "  never  one  so  noble,  so  pure,  so  true  !  I 
have  not  been  worthy  of  you,  but  I  will  make  myself 
so.  If  you  can  forget,  if  you " 

But  he  stopped  her  with  a  gleam  in  his  eyes  that  she 


14:8  LOVE   GONE   ASTBA.Y. 

did  not  likcto  see,  saying  that  she  periled  everything 
by  those  wild  words,  and  that  he  would  listen  to  no 
more  of  them.  The  interview  had  lasted  as  long  as 
was  consistent  with  the  physician's  advice.  He  was 
now  going.  If  he  heard  that  she  talked  nonsense  to 
the  attendants  he  would  ascribe  it  to  a  wandering 
brain,  the  result  of  her  illness.  And  he  vanished 
from  the  room  without  permitting  her  to  reply. 

Mrs.  Newcombe  had  been  fostering  an  idea  which 
was  submitted  to  him  on  the  following  day.  It  was 
that  he  should  get  a  number  of  tiny  cards,  to  be 
placed  in  envelopes  of  the  corresponding  size,  stating 
the  fact  of  the  birth  of  a  daughter  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gilbert  Gray,  these  cards  to  be  mailed  to  several 
hundred  of  his  and  Gladys*  friends  on  both  contin- 
ents. It  was  a  custom  she  had  found  to  prevail  in 
some  parts  of  Italy  and  she  thought  it  very  charm- 
ing. 

Gilbert  gave  his  consent  to  the  plan  immediately, 
and  the  cards  were  duly  mailed,  he  personally  writ- 
ing most  of  the  addresses.  He  had  begun  to  be  rav- 
enously anxious  to  establish  his  proprietorship  in  that 
pretty  child,  whose  father  he  must  appear.  The  con- 
gratulations that  came  back  were  nearly  as  numerous 
as  the  cards.  Gladys  was  able  to  listen  to  most  of 
them,  in  the  presence  of  her  mother  and  husband,  to 
the  infinite  pleasure  of  the  elder  lady,  who  plumed 
herself  immensely  on  having  originated  the  notion  of 
communicating  the  great  event  to  her  circle  of  friends 
in  this  manner. 

"Mrs.  Gray  was  able  to  do  one  thing  on  these  oc- 
easions  that  gave  her  much  satisfaction.  As  it  was 
necessary  to  simulate  a  closeness  of  connection  be- 


ARRIVAL   OF   THE   BABY. 

tween  herself  and  Gilbert  in  the  presence  of  Mrs. 
Newcombe,  she  could  take  one  of  his  hands  and  fon- 
dle it  without  danger  that  he  would  force  it  away 
from  her.  And  when  he  left  the  room  there  was  no 
escape  from  lightly  touching  his  wife's  forehead  with 
his  lips,  an  act  that  gave  her  the  most  exquisite  bliss. 
It  mattered  not  that  she  knew  these  things  were 
actuated  solely  by  the  need  of  impressing  her  mother. 
Gladys  received  them  eagerly,  as  a  symbol  of  what 
she  hoped  might  follow  in  due  time,  when  she  was 
restored  to  health  and  strength  and  the  further  lapse 
of  weeks  and  days  had  done  their  work. 

For  the  young  wife,  who  had  been  growing  fonder 
and  fonder  of  her  husband,  had  fallen  violently  in 
love  with  him  while  she  lay  on  this  bed  of  illness. 
She  pictured  to  herself  a  wonderful  hour  when  this 
paragon  of  men  should  feel  a  responsive  sentiment  in 
his  own  bosom.  Time,  time,  would  bring  it  about  ! 
He  loved  the  baby,  why  should  he  not,  at  some  dis- 
tant day,  love  her  also  ?  She  would  wait  for  it  to 
come,  patiently.  And  when  it  arrived,  the  black 
shadow  that  had  settled  over  her  youth  would  fly 
away  before  the  glorious  morning  of  that  new 
elysium  ! 

This  hop"  >-iat  gave  her  something  to  live  for,  as 
well  as  the  happiness  that  she  felt  in  the  ownership 
of  her  child — the  delight  with  which  Heaven  com- 
pensates women  for  the  pain  they  undergo — began 
to  make  Gladys  a  new  creature.  Her  father's  brow 
lightened  as  he  saw  his  beloved  one  so  much  like 
what  she  used  to  be  in  the  old  days.  She  was  no  less 
beautiful  in  her  young  motherhood  than  in  her  art- 
less innocence  as  a  school  girl.  The  plan  he  had  con- 


150  LOVE   GONE    A8TRAT. 

sented  with  so  much  trepidation  to  try,  had  worked 
wonders. 

He  began  to  talk  of  the  entire  party  going  to 
America  in  the  autumn,  and  there  was  no  objection 
on  any  side.  Gilbert  wanted  to  go,  because  he  had 
tired  of  dependence  and  idleness  ;  Gladys  wanted  to 
go  because  her  husband  did.  Mrs.  Newcombe,  who 
faded  perceptibly,  said  she  would  like  to  see  her 
Western  home,  and  the  Colonel  had  a  dozen  irons 
in  the  fire  that  needed  his  attention  there. 

As  it  was  thought  best  for  Mrs.  Newcombe,  as  well 
as  for  the  baby,  to  travel  by  easy  stages,  the  party 
went  to  Amsterdam  for  a  week  or  two,  in  Septem- 
ber, on  their  way  to  England.  It  would  be  pleasant, 
Mrs.  Newcombe  said,  for  the  Grays  to  revisit  the 
city  where  they  had  been1  made  one — naughty,  sly 
young  people  that  they  were  !  Gladys  flushed 
crimson,  for  she  had  associations  with  Amsterdam 
that  were  less  agreeable  to  remember,  and  Gilbert 
bit  his  lips,  but  the  failing  eyes  of  the  elder  lady 
noted  nothing  of  this.  She  continued  to  chaff  them 
in  her  indulgent,  motherly  way,  until  she  .was  tired. 

If  there  had  been  any  valid  excuse  for  avoiding 
Amsterdam,  Gilbert  would  have  availed  himself  of 
it,  but  as  there  was  none  he  consented  to  the  plan. 
But  something  occurred  during  his  stay  in  the  Dutch 
capital  that  made  him  wish  he  had  gone  to  England 
by  the  way  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  rather  than 
through  Holland.  In  one  of  his  rides  with  Gladys 
through  the  city,  he  saw  the  disagreeable  face  of 
William  Neiling  staring  at  them  from  the  sidewalk. 

Of  course  he  pretended  not  to  see  Neiling  ;  and  of 
course  he  knew  very  well  that  Neiling  knew  he  did 


ARRIVAL   OF   THE    BABY.  151 

see  him,  and  purposely  avoided  him.  From  the  one 
glance  he  had  taken  it  struck  Gray  that  his  old 
acquaintance  was  not  in  the  best  of  luck.  He  had 
that  indefinable  air  of  tightness  in  the  purse  that 
develops  itself  so  rapidly  on  some  persons.  The 
spick  and  span  look  so  becoming  to  the  rider  at 
Hyde  Park  was  conspicuously  absent.  He  had  even 
less  of  prosperity  in  his  appearance  than  when  found 
asleep  at  the  foot  of  St.  Mark's  column  in  Venice. 
Gilbert  reflected  that  the  contrast  between  him  and 
the  well-dressed  gentleman  in  the  carriage  must  be 
extremely  galling,  and  he  hoped  their  meeting  would 
not  occur  again. 

In  this  desire,  however,  Gray  was  bound  to  be  dis- 
appointed. The  face  of  Neiling  haunted  him  wher- 
ever he  went.  He  could  not  walk  or  drive  without 
seeing  that  unwelcome  countenance.  Hardly  could 
he  glance  across  the  street  from  the  window  of  his 
room  without  beholding  the  figure  he  detested,  on 
the  opposite  side.  Once  when  he  happened  to  be 
gazing  from  his  closed  shutters  his  wife  came  up  be- 
hind him.  As  her  eyes  followed  his,  she  uttered  a 
little  scream,  and  her  husband,  who  turned  suddenly 
upon  her,  saw  that  she  was  pale. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked,  assisting  her  to  a 
chair.  "  What  has  happened  ?  It  is  that  man  across 
the  street !"  he  added,  his  face  clouding.  "  You  have 
seen  him  before  ?" 

She  nodded  a  great  many  times  before  she  could 
command  her  tongue.  It  would  not  do  to  trifle  with 
Gilbert  in  his  present  mood. 

"  I  saw  him — in  London,"  she  stammered.     "  The 


152  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

week  before  /  met  you.  He  was  one  of  those — you 
understand — one  of  his — of  Mr.  Yates'  people." 

"  But  why  does  the  sight  of  him  frighten  you  ?"  he 
demanded.  "  Yates  never  showed  you  to  him,  of 
course  !" 

"  No,"  she  said,  catching  her  breath.  "  But  he  re- 
calls that  awful  time — that  time  I  try  to  forget. 
And  I  thought — by  the  attitude  you  assumed — you 
must  know." 

It  was  plain  enough,  and  the  young  man  regretted 
his  harsh  manner.  With  a  few  direct  words  he  re- 
lated the  particulars  of  his  meetings  with  Neiling, 
and  his  reasons  for  disliking  him.  He  also  sug- 
gested that  the  presence  of  the  fellow  made  a  very 
good  excuse  for  cutting  their  stay  in  Amsterdam 
short,  and  going  to  England  on  the  following  day  ; 
to  all  of  which  Gladys  agreed,  striving  to  calm  her- 
self as  best  she  might. 

It  was  the  first  time  Gilbert  had  actually  spoken 
in  angry  tones  to  her.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
was  something  to  think  he  had  been  jealous,  if  only 
for  a  moment,  for  jealousy  argues  affection.  If  he 
entertained  the  green-eyed  monster  on  her  account, 
he  must  care  more  for  her  than  he  was  willing  to 
admit.  This  was  why  Gladys  went  to  her  own  room 
as  quickly  as  she  might,  and  cried  and  laughed  there 
all  by  herself  for  the  next  two  hours. 

Mr.  Gray  was  not  to  leave  the  city,  however,  with- 
out another  disagreeable  experience.  After  dinner 
that  evening,  the  following  letter  was  put  into  his 
hand  : 

14  MY  DEAR  GRAY: — You  may  think  it  little  short  of  im- 
pertinence for  me  to  apply  to  you  for  another  loan,  remem- 


ABEIVAL   OF  THE   BABY.  153 

bering  that  the  first  is  still  unpaid ;  but  the  fact  is  1  am 
absolutely  broke,  and  know  no  one  so  able  as  you  to  help 
me  out  of  the  mire. 

"In  this  city  of  Amsterdam,  where  I  understand  you  had 
the  supreme  felicity  of  marrying  the  charming  lady  with 
whom  I  have  seen  you  driving,  you  should  be  able  to  forget 
small  hatreds  and  act  a  noble,  generous  part  to  a  fellow 
mortal  in  distress. 

"  I  only  want  five  hundred  guilders — and  I  could  possibly 
get  along  with  four  hundred.  If  you  will  send  the  amount 
by  bearer  it  will  be  a  great  accommodation.  If  not  I  will 
see  you  at  the  railway  when  you  depart — having  no  busi- 
ness to  fetter  my  hands — and  you  can  give  it  to  me  there. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"W.  N." 

"  N.  B.  That  affair  with  the  horse  in  Hyde  Park  was 
pure  accident.  He  was  an  unmanageable  beast,  and  I  sold 
him  the  next  day." 

If  this  letter  had  been  a  blackmailing  one,  pure 
and  simple,  Gilbert  Gray  would  have  thrown  it  in 
the  waste  paper  basket  and  bade  defiance  to  its  au- 
thor. There  was  just  enough  doubt  on  that  point  to 
make  him  give  it  a  second,  and  then  a  third  reading. 
Perhaps  Neiling  questioned  that  the  marriage  in 
Amsterdam  was  a  genuine  one,  but  there  was  noth- 
ing in  his  note  that  indicated  this.  The  city  had 
been  mentioned  in  all  the  published  notices  of  the 
wedding.  The  offer  to  come  to  the  station  in  case  it 
was  more  convenient  to  give  him  the  money  there 
had  a  sinister  look,  but  it  was  too  carefully  veiled  to 
be  called  a  threat. 

Supposing  the  money  was  refused,  and  Neiling 
Came  to  the  station,  what  could  he  do  there  ?  He 


154  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

could  only  ask  for  it  again.  Whatever  he  suspected, 
he  could  give  no  new  information  to  Mrs.  Gray  or 
to  Colonel  Newcombe.  Yet  there  was  Mrs.  New- 
combe — a  disagreeable  word  might  reach  her  ears 
and  cause  her  annoyance.  It  was  best  to  send  the 
money,  and  settle  the  fellow.  In  a  few  weeks  they 
would  all  be  in  the  United  States,  and  beyond  his 
power  to  bother  them. 

Four  hundred  guilders — Gilbert  thought  it  better 
to  send  the  smaller  sum — was  therefore  enclosed  in 
an  envelope  and  handed  to  the  messenger.  And  the 
sender  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  disposed  of 
the  matter  so  cheaply. 

The  arrival  in  England  was  made  without  special 
event,  and  the  hotel  servants  welcomed  effusively 
the  mother  and  child  who  had  come  in  place  of  the 
young  girl  they  had  parted  with  less  than  a  year 
ago.  Everything  seemed  going  finely  when  Mrs. 
Newcombe  developed  an  alarming  phase  of  her  ill- 
ness that  compelled  all  thoughts  of  taking  her  on  a 
journey  to  be  abandoned. 

Nothing  could  well  have  happened  worse.  Col- 
onel Newcombe  passed  his  hours  between  the  bed- 
side of  his  wife  and  his  desk,  where  telegrams  were 
sent  and  received  without  number.  Although  his 
family  was  still  first  in  his  thoughts,  he  had  felt  so 
sure  of  the  date  at  which  he  would  arrive  in  Chicago 
that  he  had  launched  into  some  business  deals  of 
magnitude  that  required  his  presence  on  the  ground. 
As  time  passed,  he  confided  the  entire  details  of  his 
sales  and  purchases  to  Gray,  saying  that  if  Mrs. 
Newcombe  got  no  better  it  might  be  necessary  for 
the  young  man  to  start  for  America  without  him,  and 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE   BABY.  155 

attend  to  some  of  the  more  pressing  matters  in  his 
stead.  Gilbert  showed  the  greatest  adaptability,  and 
surprised  the  Colonel  by  the  readiness  with  which 
he  comprehended  what  was  told  him. 

Mr.  Yates  called  frequently,  but  beyond  exchang- 
ing the  compliments  of  the  season  had  no  conversa- 
tion with  Gray.  The  liking  between  them  had  not 
increased,  but  they  seemed  to  find  it  best  to  let  each 
other  completely  alone,  since  there  was  no  cause  for 
quarrel. 

"At  last  an  exigency  came,  late  in  November, 
when  it  was  decided  that  Gray  must  depart  for 
America.  The  very  earliest  boat  in  which  a  berth 
could  be  had  was  selected,  giving  him  but  a  few 
hours  to  prepare  for  the  trip.  He  was  intrusted  with 
the  most  important  orders,  on  which  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars  depended.  For  once  in  his  life 
he  had  been  thought  worthy  of  something  above  a 
clerkship.  He  went  to  his  apartments  and  commun- 
icated the  information  to  his  wife,  remarking  that 
she  would  next  see  him,  probably,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ocean. 

To  his  intense  surprise,  Gladys  rose  from  her  chair, 
pressed  her  hand  to  her  side,  tottered  toward  him, 
and  fell  in  a  swoon  on  the  carpet. 

He  rang  for  her  maid,  who  assisted  him  to  lift 
Mrs.  Gray  upon  the  bed  in  her  room,  and  for  the 
next  quarter  hour  they  busied  themselves  to  restore 
her.  It  must  have  been  the  suddenness  of  the  an- 
nouncement, he  thought  ;  and  since  the  birth  of  her 
baby  she  had  been  subject  to  palpitations. 

That  it  was  her  grief  at  the  idea  of  being  separ- 
ated from  him  never  entered  his  mind. 


LOTE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

As  soon  as  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  Gil- 
bert left  her  and  went  to  pack  his  trunks  for  the 
voyage. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
"IT  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  ROOM." 

WHEN  Mr.  Gray  came  home  that  evening,  after 
attending  to  various  matters  connected  with  his 
impending  journey,  he  went  immediately  to  his  own 
chamber,  and  began  to  write  some  letters.  In  pass- 
ing through  the  little  salon  which  formed  the  neutral 
ground  of  the  apartment,  he  noticed  that  his  wife 
was  not  there,  and  he  had  no  doubt  she  had  retired 
for  the  night  on  account  of  the  indisposition  mani- 
fested earlier  in  the  day. 

His  mind  was  so  filled  with  the  importance  of  the 
errand  on  which  he  was  about  to  embark  that  it  had 
no  room  in  it  for  anything  else.  The  affairs  of 
Colonel  Newcombe  on  the  Board  in  Chicago  were  in 
a  perilous  state.  With  immense  interests  that  re- 
quired a  careful  hand  on  the  spot,  the  Colonel  was 
held  in  London  by  the  condition  of  his  wife,  and  the 
telegraph  proved  a  poor  substitute  for  his  personal 
presence.  His  son-in-law  had  been  given  a  power  of 
attorney  to  act  in  all  respects  as  his  agent,  and  the 
speed  of  the  fastest  ocean  vessel  was  like  the  pace  of 
a  snail  to  both  of  them. 

Until  Gilbert  should  arrive  in  Chicago  the  Colonel 


*rr  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  BOOM.**  157 

must  continue  to  direct  his  campaign  by  wire,  and 
while  nearly  every  moment  was  passed  at  his  wife's 
bedside — even  his  naps  being  taken  in  her  room — the 
strain  was  sure  to  be  tremendous  on  his  already 
sapped  vitality. 

After  his  letters  were  written,  and  a  few  other 
things  attended  to,  the  young  man  sat  silent  for  a 
long  time,  reviewing  the  past  and  speculating  upon 
the  future.  If  he  proved  his  ability  in  this  business 
the  days  of  idleness  would  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
active  life  for  which  his  spirit  craved  would  take  its 
place.  He  had  eaten  the  bread  of  mendicancy  till 
his  soul  revolted  against  it.  To  be  of  use  to  the  man 
who  had  treated  him  so  nobly,  to  feel  the  pleasure  of 
handling  money  he  had  actually  earned — that  would 
be  glorious  indeed  !  The  emergency  that  called  for 
his  efforts  was  a  painful  one,  but  it  meant  freedom, 
the  ability  to  walk  erect,  the  right  to  look  men  in  the 
face — all  this,  if  he  succeeded. 

And  he  would  succeed  !  If  there  was  such  a  thing 
possible  he  would  demonstrate  his  value  to  those  who 
trusted  him. 

The  door  between  his  chamber  and  the  private 
salon  was  not  entirely  closed,  and  Gray  became 
aware  after  awhile  that  some  one  was  moving  about 
in  the  latter  room.  A  long  mirror  on  the  opposite 
side  reflected  the  forrr-  of  the  person,  and  he  soon 
saw  that  it  was  a  woman,  clad  only  in  the  loose  robes 
of  night,  walking  up  and  down  like  one  who  finds  no 
rest. 

The  reflection  flashed  upon  him  for  a  moment  and 
then  was  lost  again,  over  and  over,  as  the  walker 
passed  in  front  of  the  glass.  He  knew  it  must  be 


158  LOVE   GONfe    ASTRAY. 

Gladys,  though  she  looked  so  strange  in  that  costume 
that  he  hardly  recognized  her.  And  as  he  gazed, 
trying  to  catch  a  sufficient  glimpse  of  her  face  to 
guess  the  meaning  of  this  tireless  walk,  she  stopped 
directly  in  front  of  the  mirror  and  inspected  herself 
in  it. 

She  had  been  weeping,  and,  indeed,  was  weeping 
yet,  for  the  large  drops  flowed  one  by  one  down  her 
pale  cheeks,  touched  her  round  shoulders  and  disap- 
peared beneath  the  snowy  vesture  of  her  garments. 
The  attitude  which  she  assumed  was  sorrowful  in 
the  extreme.  Her  long  hair,  quite  unbound,  hung 
far  below  her  waist.  Her  arms,  feet  and  ankles  were 
bare,  and  the  transparent  silk  of  her  nightdress  re- 
vealed completely  the  outlines  of  her  handsome  figure 
as  she  stood  between  the  light  and  the  reflector. 
She  was  beautiful  beyond  compare,  and  sad  enough 
to  stir  the  sympathy  of  a  stone. 

Gilbert  Gray  had  never  seen  his  wife  in  dishabille 
before,  unless  we  except  that  evening  when  she  lay 
in  her  bed,  covered  with  blankets.  The  sight  of 
that  half-draped  loveliness  made  him  tremble.  He 
did  not  want  to  look,  and  he  had  no  power  to  turn 
away  his  eyes.  What  limbs  she  had  !  What  magni- 
ficence of  bust,  what  perfection  of  contour  ! 

As  he  watched,  she  stretched  her  arms  above  her 
head,  shivering  as  if  a  wave  from  the  icy  North  had 
blown  upon  her  soft,  pink  flesh. 

And  the  tears  fell  still,  one  after  the  other,  as  from 
a  statue  of  Despair. 

If  there  was  any  way  he  could  .comfort  her,  it  was 
clearly  his  duty  to  do  it,  though  he  saw  nothing  dis- 
tinctly in  regard  to  the  matter.  He  knew  no  reason 


"  IT  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  BOOM."  159 

why  she  should  have  these  terrible  moments  of 
misery.  Was  it  the  never-to-be-stilled  Conscience, 
that  roused  the  memories  of  the  past  ?  Was  it  sor- 
row for  the  mother  whose  days  were  now  numbered  ? 
Was  it  regret  for  the  pain  she  had  given  her  father, 
who  was  bowed  under  a  weight  he  could  scare  bear  ? 
Whatever  the  reason,  she  must  not  be  allowed  to 
suffer  without  an  attempt  on  his  part  to  aid  her. 

"  Gladys  !"    he  called,  softly.     "  Gladys  !" 

The  form  in  front  of  the  mirror  shrank  together  in 
a  listening  attitude. 

"  Did  you  call  ?"  it  asked  breathlessly. 

"  Yes.  What  are  you  doing  up  at  this  time  of 
night  ?  Have  you  your  gown  on  ?  If  not,  dress  and 
come  here  where  I  can  talk  to  you  ?" 

Instantly  the  round  limbs  strode  across  the  carpet, 
and  the  door  of  Mr.  Gray's  bedroom  was  flung  vio- 
lently open.  The  pink  statue  in  its  robe  of  transpa<  * 
ent  silk  stepped  over  his  threshold. 

"  Have  I  my  gown  on  !"  cried  Gladys  to  the  as- 
tounded man.  "  Why  should  I  have  it  on,  in  your 
presence  ?  I  am  your  wife  !  It  is  more  than  eight 
months  since  I  began  living  with  you.  How  long 
am  I  expected  to  appear  before  you  in  hat  and  cloak, 
with  boots  buttoned  and  collar  pinned  ?  I  have  a 
right  to  come  into  this  room  in  any  garb  I  please,  of 
all  rooms  in  the  world  !  What  is  the  matter  with 
me  ?  Am  I  not  fair  enough  ?  Is  my  flesh  too  brown, 
my  arms  too  slender  ?  Am  I  old,  emaciated,  mal- 
formed, ugly  ?  You  never  knew  till  this  moment 
what  I  was  like  !  It  is  time  you  saw  me  as  I  am, 
Gilbert  Gray  !" 

Shocked  beyoad  measure,  the  husband  drew  him« 


160  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

self  away  from  her,  protesting  that  she  had  forgotten 
herself  wholly  and  must  come  to  her  senses. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  myself  !"  she  answered,  ve- 
hemently, though  her  lip  shook.  "It  is  you  who  for- 
get. You  are  sowing  seed  that  may  ripen  into  a  har- 
vest you  may  not  wish  to  gather.  Look  at  me.  I 
am  not  yet  twenty,  and  all  the  warm  blood  of  health 
flows  in  my  veins.  I  am  already  a  mother — to  my 
shame  if  you  wish  it  so — but  a  mother  I  am.  Why 
Was  I  led  into  that  awful  path  ?  Was  it  from  love  bf 
my  child's  father  ?  I  hated  him  at  the  moment  I  re- 
ceived his  caresses.  What,  then  ?  Why,  the  uncon- 
trollable impulse  to  be  kissed,  to  be  fondled,  to  be 
told  that  I  was  beautiful  and  sweet.  Do  not  inter- 
rupt me,  I  must  have  this  out.  It  has  burned  in  my 
heart  too  long  !" 

He  could  not  speak  for  astonishment,  and  she  con- 
tinued : 

"  For  that  sin  I  suffered.  The  torments  of  hell  can- 
not exceed  those  I  passed  through.  And  then  I  was 
told  that  a  man  had  been  found  so  generous,  so  no- 
ble, that  he  would  forgive  that  error  and  take  me  for 
his  wife  as  if  it  had  never  occurred.  I  had  seen  his 
face,  and  my  heart,  still  virgin  in  its  affections,  went 
out  to  him.  I  knew  it  would  require  time  to  make 
him  love  me,  and  I  wanted  time  as  much  as  he.  I 
anticipated  a  struggle  with  him,  perhaps  the  need  of 
prayers  and  exhortations  that  he  would  wait  for 
proofs  of  my  love  until  the  first  fault  had  been  in 
some  sense  remedied.  When  he  began  to  treat  me 
like  a  brother,  I  blessed  him  in  my  heart  for  what  I 
believed  his  magnanimous  consideration,  and  I  loved 
him  more  and  more.  But  months  have  passed,  and 


"IT  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  KOOM.**  161 

what  I  took  to  be  magnanimity  I  find  was  only  a 
subtle  cruelty,  a  refined  torture  to  which  he  has  com- 
pelled me  to  submit,  and  which  I  begin  to  think  he 
means  to  carry  out  to  the  end.  I  warn  you,  Gilbert 
Gray,  you  are  on  dangerous  ground.  I  cannot  be 
driven  too  far  !" 

So  rapidly  were  these  sentences  delivered,  and  with 
such  vehemence  of  utterance,  that  the  husband  hardly  l 
understood  their  full  purport.  The  avalanche  had 
fallen  upon  him  without  warning.  The  most  he 
realized  was  that  this  woman,  whom  he  had  esteemed 
for  her  modest  bearing,  had  thrown  decency  to  the 
winds'  and  was  delivering  a  tirade  of  abuse  in  a  cos- 
tume in  which  he  had  never  imagined  she  would  allow 
herself  seen.  On  the  other  hand  it  was  plain  that 
Gladys  would  not  have  done  these  things  unless 
driven  forward  by  some  extraordinary  emotion.  He 
had  seen  her  silent  weeping  in  the  reflection  of  the 
mirror,  and  was  ready  to  make  what  allowances  he 
could. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  anything  I  have  done  to  displease 
you,"  he  said,  "and  when  we  meet  again  I  will  talk 
it  over  with  you  and  see  wherein  we  differ.  To-night, 
you  must  remember,  is  the  last  I  spend  near  you  for 
cne  present,  and  my  head  is  too  full  of  your  father's 
errands  to  think  of  anything  else.  So,  if  you  will 
calm  yourself,  and  go  to  bed " 

She  interrupted  him  fiercely, 

"Then  you  intend  to  drive  me  away  f  See,  I  am 
on  my  knees,  begging  for  your  love  !"  She  fell  at 
his  feet  as  she  spoke,  to  his  consternation.  *'I  am 
here,  your  wife,  praying  for  the  kisses,  the  caresses, 
tfiat  are  mine  by  right.  What  !  do  you  repulse  me, 


162  LOVE  GONE   ASTRAY. 

when  I  lower  myself  like  this  ?  Will  you  not  tak* 
me  in  your  arms  for  one  moment,  will  you  not  press 
your  lips  for  the  first  time  to  mine  ?" 

She  had  thrown  those  bare  arms  around  his  neck 
and  was  trying  to  drag  his  face  down  to  hers,  in  the 
fury  of  desperation.  It  was  all  he  coul-d  do  to  dis- 
engage her  clasp,  and  when  he  succeeded,  and  rose, 
much  disturbed,  to  his  feet,  she  fell,  a  limp  heap  of 
loveliness,  across  his  hearthrug. 

"  Gladys,  I  am  astonished  at  you  !"  was  all  he 
could  articulate. 

But  she  did  not  answer,  lying  there  in  perfect 
carelessness  as  to  her  appearance,  and  giving  vent  to 
a  flood  of  tears  that  he  could  for  some  time  do  noth- 
ing to  arrest. 

"  This  has  gone  on  long  enough,"  he  said,  at  last, 
raising  his  voice.  "If  you  do  not  cease  I  shall  send 
for  your  father." 

She  sat  up  on  the  rug,  and  brushed  her  long  hair 
back  from  her  swollen  eyes. 

"  Send  for  him,"  she  said.  "  Send  now.  Let  rue 
tell  him  what  kind  of  husband  he  gave  me.  Let  me 
tell  him  that  in  eight  months  you  have  never  offered 
me  a  caress  except  in  the  presence  of  my  mother. 
Ask  him  if  he  thinks  a  girl  like  me  should  be  con- 
tented with  a  man  of  ice  and  snow.  He  knows  what 
I  am,  to  his  sorrow.  Ask  him  if  he  believes  you  the 
man  to  trust  my  future  with." 

She  was  pretty  !  Dimpled,  rosy,  round,  sweet 
and  fair.  Had  she  not  been  his  wife  he  might  have 
been  unable  to  resist  her,  but  her  conduct  had  out- 
raged his  feelings  of  propriety — his  sense  of  what 
*  Mrs.  Gray  "  should  be — and  he  remained  firm. 


"IT  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  BOOM."  163 

"You  put  me  in  an  awkward  dilemma,"  he  an- 
swered. "  If  I  send  for  your  father  I  shall  give  pain 
I  would  prefer  to  spare  him.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
is  very  certain  you  cannot  remain  here  all  night." 

"Why  not?"  she  retorted,  defiantly.  "It  is  my 
husband's  room.  I  have  been  a  true  and  faithful 
wife  in  spite  of  his  coldness  and  neglect.  By  what 
law  can  he  drive  me  forth  ?  Gilbert !"  she  cried, 
changing  her  defiant  tones  to  pleading  ones  again. 
"  Help  me  !  There  is  no  one  else  that  can  do  it.  I 
want  love.  I  must  have  it — or  die." 

He  strove  to  think  of  something  that  would  influ- 
ence her,  and  at  last  the  baby  entered  his  mind. 

"  If  you  continue  to  excite  yourself,"  he  said, 
"Marianne  will  suffer.  She  drains  her  life  from 
yours  and  you  will  make  her  ill." 

Another  gush  of  tears  followed  this  thrust. 

"  Ah  !  The  poor  darling  I"  said  the  mother. 
"  Supposing  I  should  treat  her  as  you  treat  me  !  Sup- 
posing, when  she  opens  her  lips  for  the  bread  of  life, 
I  poured  vinegar  into  her  mouth  !  And  yet  she  is 
not  more  dependent  on  me  for  her  happiness  than  I 
am  on  you." 

He  said  a  few  words  that  he  thought  would  influ- 
ence her,  but  they  were  of  no  avail. 

"  If  you  will  go  to  your  room  and  get  your  sleep," 
he  added,  desperately,  "  I  will  promise  to  see  you 
very  early  in  the  morning.  My  train  departs  before 
noon." 

She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  on  the  carpet,  clasp- 
ing her  knees  with  her  arms  as  she  swung. 

"  You  have  not  said  a  word  about  my  going,"  she 


164  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

answered.  "  One  would  think  you  intended  to  leave 
me  in  England." 

"  That  is  a  very  foolish  remark,"  said  he,  im- 
patiently. "  There  are  a  thousand  reasons  why  you 
cannot  go.  Your  mother,  as  you  must  not  forget,  is 
very  ill.  Your  father  cannot  be  left  alone.  Then,  if 
there  were  no  other  reason,  there  is  not  a  vacant 
berth  on  the  steamer.  I  happened  to  find  the  only 
one  that  had  been  given  up,  in  a  cabin  with 
three  other  men,  that  was  engaged  a  month  ago.  It 
will  not  be  long  before  I  return,  or  before  you  come 
to  me.  To  talk  of  going  with  me  to-morrow  is 
merely  madness." 

She  rose  slowly,  and  stood,  with  the  same  careless- 
ness  of  pose  and  .dress,  leaning  heavily  against  his 
mantel. 

"  And  to-night,  when  you  have  determined  to  cross 
the  ocean  without  your  wife,  when  weeks,  possibly 
months,  may  elapse  before  you  see  her  again,  can 
you  treat  me  as  icily  as  this  ?"  she  said  vehemently. 
"  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you  that  the  day  before 
such  a  parting  should  be  devoted  to  fortifying  a 
woman's  distracted  mind,  to  strengthening  her  trem- 
bling heart,  to  awakening  every  thread  of  her  wifely 
affection,  thus  making  her  intact  against  tempta- 
tion, in  whatever  form  it  may  come.  There  is  not 
another  husband  in  this  city  of  five  million  people 
who  has  not  instinct  enough  to  do  the  things  you 
neglect.  Not  a  waterman  on  the  Thames,  not  a 
costermonger  in  Lambeth  but  could  teach  you  the 
lesson  you  so  much  need  to  learn." 

He  began  dimly  to  suspect  what  she  meant  him  to 
understand. 


"  IT   IS    MY    HUSBAND'S   BOOM."  165 

"You  are  a  mistress  of  invective,"  said  he,  "and 
into  that  field  I  do  not  propose  to  follow  you. 
As  to  the  temptations  at  which  you  darkly  hint,  I  do 
not  believe  you  care  to  risk  wrecking  your  life — 
again.  Let  me  tell  you  in  all  kindness,  Gladys,  that 
you  have  adopted  the  worst  possible  method  of  win- 
ning my  esteem.  But  if  you  insist  on  having  these 
things  discussed,  listen  to  me  a  moment.  Since  I 
have  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  you  I  have 
steadily  learned  to  like  you.  That  liking  might  in 
time  have  developed  into  love — and  I  do  not  say  it 
may  not  yet  do  so — but  such  demonstrations  as  this 
postpone  that  hour  to  a  distant  future.  Love  cannot 
be  taken  by  storm.  You  cannot  walk  into  a  man's 
room  in  a  state  bordering  on  nudity  and  expect  him 
to  see  in  you  the  woman  he  wants  for  the  mother  of 
his  children.  What  you  have  done  to-night  has 
made  the  closer  union  between  us  a  matter  for  a  far- 
off  day.  You  asked  me  awhile  ago  if  you  were  ugly, 
old,  or  misshapen.  With  all  my  heart  I  tell  you 
that  I  never  dreamed  such  beauty  as  yours  dwelt 
outside  of  marble.  If  I  had  taken  no  vows  and  such 
a  form  had  come  to  me  I  fear  resistance  would  have 
fled  to  the  winds.  But  marriage  is  either  holy  or  it  is 
blasphemous.  I  have  contracted  to  live  true  to  you 
— to  keep  myself  from  all  others — and  I  want  to  find 
you  mentally  as  well  as  physically  perfect  when  I 
take  you  to  my  heart." 

A  smile  of  derision  sat  upon  the  lips  of  the  young 
woman  as  she  listened. 

"  If  things  like  this  '  must  be  discussed  ',"  she  re- 
plied, mockingly,  "  let  me  suggest  that  you  have 
recently  adopted  a  very  exalted  plana.  How  long  is 


166  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

it  since  you  sold  your  vows,  as  you  call  them,  to  the 
highest  bidder,  coupled  even  with  a  suspicion  of 
perjury  ?  My  father  bought  you  for  me — with 
money.  You  have  no  more  right,  in  honor,  to  evade 
the  ordinary  terms  of  your  contract  than  you  have  to 
proclaim  them  up  and  down  the  public  street.  But." 
she  added,  wearily,  "  I  am  tired  of  argument.  I  have 
debased  myself  more  to-night  than  I  did  when  I  gave 
my  lips  to  my  seducer.  You  have  determined  to 
humble  me,  and  you  are  master  of  your  own  actions. 
All  I  ask  is  that  you  do  not  speak  to  me  again  ex- 
cept in  the  presence  of  others.  Some  day  the  knowl- 
edge of  what  you  have  done  may  come  to  haunt  you. 
If  it  does,  remember  it  was  not  without  warning  !" 

As  she  turned  from  him  and  started  for  her  own 
room,  a  wave  of  regret  rolled  across  Gilbert  Gray's 
brain.  While  she  disputed  with  him  and  criticised 
his  conduct  he  could  be  as  argumentative  as  she. 
But  now  that  she  was  going  he  wanted  to  part  with 
her  on  a  better  basis.  He  was  not  sure  but  he  was 
partly  in  the  wrong. 

"  A  minute,"  he  called,  and  she  paused  at  the  door. 
"  We  have  said  a  great  many  hateful  things  to  each 
other,  and  I  don't  like  to  have  you  leave  with  their 
venom  rankling.  I  don't  know  how  it  all  started, 
and  I'm  sorry  it  happened.  One  thing  led  to  an- 
other, I  suppose.  We've  been  very  good  friends, 
Gladys,  and  I  don't  want  to  remember  any  of  this 
when  I  am  on  the  sea  and  beyond  it." 

In  some  inexplicable  way  they  were  in  each  other's 
arms.  He  had  forgotten  for  the  instant  his  horror 
at  her  disrobed  condition,  and  she  had  opened  her 
heart  to  him  directly  he  gave  way  a  little. 


"IT  is  MY  HUSBAND'S  ROOM."  167 

"  Hold  me — like  this — just  one  minute  I"  she  stam- 
mered, overcome  with  the  sudden  joy.  "  Held  me— ' • 
like— this  r 

If  it  was  a  minute  it  was  a  very  long  one — the 
longest,  perhaps,  that  old  Time  has  ever  had  to  re- 
cord. For  the  morning  sun  came  and  found  them 
there,  in  that  room  where  they  had  quarreled.  The 
one  kiss  the  wife  had  craved  had  not  been  finished 
yet. 

Thus  Love,  in  spite  of  all  his  enemies,  forever 
"  finds-  a  way."  When  we  think  him  conquered  and 
his  army  put  to  rout,  he  pours  his  legions  through 
the  walls  and  hoists  his  banner  on  the  citadel.  No 
general  yet  born  could  successfully  combat  him. 

And  when  the  victor  has  demolished  the  bulwarks 
that  impede  his  progress,  how  he  levels  the  embank- 
ments, planting  flowers  and  shade  trees  where  the 
noisy  cannon  stood  ;  how  he  brings  the  little  chil- 
dren romping  at  their  games  over  the  fields  of  strife, 
wreathing  every  grave  with  garlands  ! 


168  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

I  THE    CHICAGO     WHEAT    PIT. 

DURING  the  week  before  he  reached  New  York, 
Gilbert  Gray  was  in  a  daze.  He  walked  the  deck 
of  his  steamer  mechanically,  ate  his  meals  with  only 
the  slightest  attention  to  his  neighbors  at  table,  and 
lay  awake  far  into  the  night,  thinking  of  his  parting 
hours  with  Gladys.  How  had  the  sudden  change 
come  to  pass  ?  How  had  their  relations  altered  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  from  those  of  ordinary 
friendship,  mingled  with  a  certain  element  of  dis- 
trust, to  the  warmest  and  most  endearing  that  can 
exist  between  a  man  and  a  woman  ? 

He  was  in  a  whirl  of  doubt  as  to  whether  he  ought 
to  be  proud  of  what  had  occurred,  or  very  much 
ashamed.  The  unusual  manner  in  which  his  mar- 
riage had  taken  place,  the  reasons  that  had  naturally 
made  him  reserved  in  his  wife's  presence,  the  tacit 
acceptance  on  the  part  of  both  of  them  of  the  situa- 
tion as  it  seemed  to  outline  itself,  all  came  back  to 
him. 

Then  there  was  the  tumultuous  rush  of  blood  to 
his  head,  the  clasping  of  that  warm  and  yielding  fig- 
ure to  his  heart,  the  forgetting  of  everything  .' 

As  he  lay  in  his  berth,  night  after  night,  he  had 
but  one  wild,  overpowering  wish — that  Gladys,  and 
not  uninteresting  masculine  passengers,  occupied 
the  cabin  with  him.  He  wanted  her — that  woman  he 
had  rejected  so  long  with  a  severity  he  could  not  now 


THK  CKJCAG9  WHEAT  PIT.  169 

**<!erstand.  Whatever  she  had  been,  whatever 
might  be  between  them  in  the  past,  he  wanted  her 
now. 

It  was  not  reason  ;  it  was  the  mad  impulse  of 
youth.  She  was  his  wife,  but  that  was  not  it.  She 
might  have  been  any  other  woman  under  the  sun, 
and  it  would  hate  been  the  same.  He — wanted — 
her  ! 

Upon  landing  he  received  several  telegrams  from 
Colonel  Newcombe,  and  one— from  Gladys.  The 
first  were  of  the  utmost  importance  to  the  business 
he  had  crossed  the  ocean  to  accomplish.  The  latter 
was  brief  and  contained  only  these  words  : 

"  Come  back  as  soon  as  you  can,  to  the  woman 
you  have  made  the  happiest  on  earth." 

It  was  only  with  the  greatest  effort  that  he  could 
turn  from  this  message,  which  he  perused  a  hundred 
times,  and  fix  his  mind  on  the  others.  He  sent  an 
answer,  "  Not  happier,  darling,  than  you  have  made 
me,"  and  then  devoted  himself,  as  well  as  he  could, 
to  the  duties  before  him. 

There  had  been  a  terrible  time  on  the  Board  at 
Chicago.  In  a  week  fortunes  are  made  and  lost  in 
speculation.  The  entire  amount  that  Colonel  New- 
combe  had  at  stake  trembled  in  the  balance.  Tied 
to  the  bedside  of  his  suffering  wife  he  could  only  de- 
pend on  this  novice.  The  final  telegrams  merely 
told  Mr.  Gray  to  "  use  his  judgment,"  whatever  that 
might  be.  He  felt,  as  his  mind  grew  stronger,  that 
he  must  accomplish  something  to  justify  the  kindness 
and  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  this  man,  who  had 
acted  toward  him  like  a  second  and  most  indulgent 
father. 


170  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

But  there  are  places  where  the  human  mind  finds 
itself  overpowered  by  circumstances.  The  slump 
that  had  taken  place  in  the  market  could  only  be 
compared  to  an  Alpine  avalanche  in  its  sweeping 
force.  Strong  hands  were  in  the  deal  to  lower 
prices,  and  the  effort  had  succeeded  to  a  startling 
degree  when  Gray  arrived  at  Chicago.  Colonel 
Newcombe's  brokers  were  at  their  wits'  end  to  keep 
him  from  being  "called"  on  the  floor  of  the 
Exchange. 

Gilbert  brought  little  to  change  the  situation. 
He  had  authority  to  borrow  money,  if  necessary,  but, 
at  a  time  when  everybody  knew  the  business  of  every- 
body else,  that  was  not  easy  to  get  for  a  man  who 
held  the  wrong  side  of  the  lever.  A  little  was 
obtained  in  one  place  and  a  little  in  another,  but  it 
only  eased  matters  a  trifle,  and  the  downward 
tendency  continued  to  make  all  efforts  seem  useless. 
When  some  days  had  passed  and  he  had  exhausted 
all  his  funds  Gray  heard  of  a  new  firm  of  brokers 
— Godkin  &  Lancaster — who  were  taking  risks  for 
those  ready  to  pay  exceptional  figures.  In  despair  of 
finding  what  he  wanted  elsewhere,  he  decided  to  pay 
the  interest  they  were  said  to  demand,  if  he  could 
get  them  to  loan  enough  on  the  security  he  could 
give. 

He  was  ushered  into  an  elegantly  furnished  office, 
and  a  boy  in  buttons  took  his  card  to  the  members 
of  the  firm,  who  were  discreetly  invisible  to  that  part 
of  the  public  with  whom  they  had  no  dealings.  In  a 
few  moments  the  boy  returned  with  the  statement 
that  Mr.  Lancaster  would  see  the  gentlema  in  his 
private  office. 


THE   CHICAGO    WHEAT   PIT.  171 

Nothing  that  had  happened  in  the  rush  of  events 
astonished  Gray  so  much  as  to  find  himself  con- 
fronted, in  that  private  office,  by  Mr.  William  Neil- 
ing.  He  was  half  inclined  to  leave  the  place  at  once, 
but  Neiling  cut  him  short  by  asking  in  the  cold, 
crisp  tones  of  business,  what  he  could  do  for  him. 

"  I  asked  to  see  Mr.  Lancaster,"  Gray  managed  to 
reply,  with  an  air  of  asperity. 

"That  is  my  name,"  said  the  other,  in  set  tones. 
**  Will  you  be  seated  ?" 

Overcome  by  this  announcement,  Gray  dropped 
into  the  nearest  chair.  He  did  not  think  anything 
could  astound  him  after  that. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,"  pursued 
Neiling,  or  Lancaster,  as  it  may  now  be  better  to 
call  him.  "  You  have  an  impression,  from  some- 
thing that  passes  in  your  mind,  that  my  name  is  not 
Lancaster.  That  impression  is  erroneous.  I  am 
Joseph  Lancaster,  junior  partner  in  the  firm  of  God- 
kin  &  Lancaster,  and  quite  at  your  service." 

Had  the  business  on  which  he  had  called  been 
merely  his  own,  Gilbert  would  have  said  to  Mr. 
Lancaster  that,  on  reflection,  he  believed  he  had  no 
business  to  transact  with  him.  But  he  was  acting 
for  Colonel  Newcombe.  He  had  tried  every  other 
concern  he  could  think  of,  and  it  was  this  chance  or 
none.  Clearly  it  would  not  do  to  be  squeamish. 
Dismissing  the  wonder  how  Neiling  could  have 
transformed  himself  into  a  lender  of  money,  when  he 
had  met  him  so  recently  in  the  guise  of  a  beggar,  and 
also  the  strangeness  of  his  being  at  this  end  of  the 
world,  he  proceeded  to  state  his  errand. 

"  I  wish  to  borrow  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  thirty 


172  LOVE   GONE    A8TBAT. 

days,"  he  said,  "and  I  offer  as  security" — naming 
the  stocks  and  certificates  of  deposit. 

"  Is  this  loan  for  yourself,  in  person  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Lancaster. 

"  No,  it  is  for  Colonel  Henry  Newcombe." 

A  peculiar  gleam  lit  up  the  face  of  the  broker. 

"Ah  /"  he  said,  musingly.  "  Colonel  Newcombe's 
note  was  good  for  a  million  three  months  ago,  but  I 
fear  it  is  not  the  best  that  might  be  offered,  in  these 
times." 

"  It  is  reinforced  by  the  collateral  I  mentioned," 
replied  Gray,  stoutly.  "And  I  am  prepared  to  pay  a 
good  rate." 

Mr.  Lancaster  turned  to  a  memorandum  book  at 
his  side. 

"  The  present  margins  on  all  the  things  you  offer," 
he  said,  slowly,  "  hardly  exceed  the  amount  you  wish 
to  borrow.  Aside  from  them,  I  think  Colonel  New- 
combe  is  not  possessed  of  much  property." 

It  was  true.  The  millionaire  of  a  few  months  ago 
depended  on  the  tide  in  the  exchange  for  his  pecu- 
niary existence  now. 

"  He  has  a  fine  residence  on street,"  faltered 

Gilbert. 

"Which,"  answered  Lancaster,  again  consulting 
his  book,  "  belongs  to  his  wife.  Mrs.  Newcombe, 
being  very  ill  in  London,  is  not  in  a  condition  to  exe- 
cute a  mortgage,  even  if  she  desired  to  do  so.  The 
Colonel  has  an  insurance "  (again  looking  at  the 
book)  "  of  forty  thousand  dollars  on  his  life,  upon 
which  something  might  be  raised,  but  certainly  not 
the  sum  you  ask.  He  is  in  fair  health,  I  presume," 


THE   CHICAGO   WHEAT   PIT.  178 

he  added,  with  a  coolness  that  chiliad  his  hearer's 
blood. 

*'  In  short,"  Gray  said,  rising,  *'  you  do  not  care  to 
make  the  loan." 

"  I  don't  see  the  way  clear  to  do  so,"  answered 
Lancaster.  "And  I  am  sorry,  too,  for  we  have  a 
great  deal  of  money  on  hand  at  present,  and  would 
like  to  place  it.  You  would  expect  to  pay  something 
unusual,  of  course,  ten  per  cent,  a  month  or  so." 

The  figure  was  not  greater  than  has  often  been  paid 
under  similar  conditions,  and  Gray,  who  had  turned 
toward  the  door,  faced  the  speaker. 

"  I  would  pay  it,"  he  said,  "  to  get  the  money  ;  but 
if  you  will  not  lend,  the  rate  makes  little  difference." 

"  You  can  have  forty  thousand  on  your  security," 
was  the  slow  reply,  "with  the  understanding  that  we 
are  to  protect  ourselves  in  case  of  another  fall  in  the 
meantime.  And — if  you  wish — ten  thousand  dollars 
additional  on  the  life  insurance,  the  latter  at  a  dou- 
ble rate,  being  an  exceptional  kind  of  security.  We 
cannot  do  better,  and  you  know  whether  you  are 
able  to  get  as  good  terms  elsewhere." 

As  the  life  insurance  was  not  considered  in  any  of 
the  talks  or  telegrams  of  Colonel  Newcombe,  Gray 
did  not  feel  authorized  to  pledge  it.  He  therefore 
told  the  broker  that  he  would  send  a  wire  to  London, 
and  report  as  soon  as  possible  whether  he  could 
accept  the  proposition  or  not. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Lancaster.  "  And  now, 
before  you  go,  allow  me  to  return  you  the  amounts 
of  two  small  loans  you  were  once  so  considerate  as  to 
make  to  a  friend  of  mine  on  the  other  side  of  the  sea. 
I  believe  it  came  altogether  to  about  two  hundred 


174  LOVE   GONE   A8TEAT. 

dollars,  which,  with  interest  at  five  per  cent,  a  year, 
we  may  call  two  hundred  and  ten.  If  you  will  sit 
down  again  for  a  moment  I  will  give  you  a  check." 

Nonplussed  at  this  offer,  Gray  hardly  knew  what 
course  to  take.  Even  in  his  nervous  condition  he  had 
not  failed  to  notice  the  difference  in  the  rate  of  inter- 
est which  Lancaster  paid  and  that  which  he  exacted. 
On  the  other  hand  he  wanted  to  attend  to  his  tele- 
gram as  soon  as  possible  and  had  no  time  to  spare 
for  smaller  matters.  So,  instead  of  reseating  himself, 
he  remarked  that  the  loan  referred  to  could  be  repaid 
at  a  later  time,  and  that  he  should  not,  in  any  case, 
accept  interest.  Edging  toward  the  door  he  was  on 
the  point  of  saying  good-bye,  when  the  broker  spoke 
again. 

"I  would  rather,"  he  said,  pointedly,  "that  you 
did  not  mention  to  any  one,  at  any  time,  the  name 
under  which  you  knew  my  friend  who  borrowed  that 
money  from  you.  Poor  fellow,  he  is  dead  and  gone 
now  ;  and  I,  his  heir,  do  not  care  to  have  the  days  of 
his  poverty  recalled." 

To  this  Mr.  Gray  responded  with  a  bow,  and  was 
glad  when  he  found  himself  in  the  street  again.  He 
heard  the  cries  of  the  newsboys,  indicating  that  a 
change  for  the  better  had  taken  place  in  the  stock 
market,  and  his  heart  beat  faster  as  he  hurried  to  the 
office  he  had  taken  and  found  the  news  to  be  true. 
The  improvement  was  but  slight,  but  at  least  it  was 
better  than  another  fall.  It  put  off  for  the  moment 
the  necessity  of  borrowing  money,  and  gave  him 
time  to  take  breath. 

He  seized  the  opportunity  to  answer  a  letter  he 
had  that  morning  received  from  Gladys,  full  of  r 


THE   CHICAGO   WHEAT   PIT.  175 

love  that  seemed  to  surpass  her  ability  to  express. 
In  her  new-found  bliss  she  was  happy  in  spite  of 
the  clouds  that  hovered  around  her  house.  Her 
mother  was  still  very  low  when  she  wrote,  and  the 
doctors  gave  no  hope  that  there  would  be  any  per- 
manent improvement.  Her  father  was  silent  and 
haggard,  never  leaving  the  loved  one's  side  except  to 
take  the  briefest  snatches  of  sleep,  and  to  receive  and 
send  the  necessary  telegrams.  Of  the  baby  she  said 
nothing,  feeling  that  this  subject  did  not  lend  itself 
to  the  kind  of  love-letter  she  was  writing. 

"  And  in  spite  of  all  the  troubles  that  are  about 
me,"  she  wrote,  "am  I  not  wicked  to  be  happy  ?  Al- 
though my  husband — mine  at  last  in  deed  as  well  as 
name — is  four  thousand  miles  away  ;  although  I  am 
told  that  out  of  this  horrible  crash  we  may  emerge 
with  half  our  fortune  lost ;  although  sickness  and 
possibly  death  stands  at  the  door — my  heart  sings 
a  new  tune  of  joy.  For  I  have  been  loved,  and  I  shall 
be  loved  again!  Oh,  when  will  it  be,  that  blessed 
time  that  I  am  to  feel  your  arms  around  me,  your 
lips  against  my  own  !  I  can  wait,  for  I  am  so  sure 
of  you  now,  so  confident  that  nothing  can  steal  away 
my  love  or  my  lover  i" 


176  LOVE  GONE   ASTBAY. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

COLONEL   NEWCOMBE   RUINED. 

AMONG  the  people  that  Gray  saw  at  Chicago,  was 
Israel  Dibbs,  who  happened  to  come  to  the  same 
hotel  in  the  course  of  one  of  his  professional  visits  to 
that  city.  The  lawyer  looked  precisely  as  of  yore, 
and  smiled  with  what  affability  he  could  summon  as 
he  held  out  his  bony  hand. 

"I  am  not  going  to  stand  on  ceremony,"  he  said, 
"just  because  you  treated  me  coolly  when  I  tried  to 
do  you  a  favor.  You'll  have  to  come  around  and 
deal  with  me  yet,  for  the  five  years  we  were  to  wait, 
by  that  will  of  Mr.  Blair's,  is  passing  away  pretty 
fast.  I  suppose  you  won't  refuse  the  property  when 
all  of  the  conditions  have  been  fulfilled  ?" 

Gilbert  wished  heartily  that  he  could  take  it  at 
that  moment,  with  a  good  conscience,  for  he  be- 
lieved, in  his  soul,  that  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
market,  and  the  low  figures  stocks  had  reached,  he 
could  rescue  the  whole  of  his  father-in-law's  estate 
had  he  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  work  with. 
He  replied  that  he  hoped  he  was  not  so  idiotic  as  to 
decline  to  accept  his  own,  and  reiterated  the  reasons 
he  had  always  given  for  refusing  to  touch  the  Blair 
funds  before  the  time  specified  in  his  friend's  testa- 
ment. As  soon  as  the  legal  space  had  elapsed,  he 
assured  the  lawyer,  he  would  put  in  his  claim. 

"In  the  meantime  you  are  doing  everything  to  dis- 
cover Mr,  Julius  Margrave,  I  hope,"  he  added. 


COLONEL  NEWOOMBB  EUINED.  177 

**I  am  doing  all  I  intend  to  do,"  was  the  civil  re- 
ply. "  I  insert  an  advertisement  regularly  every 
three  months  in  a  London  and  a  New  York  newspaper. 
If  he  is  anywhere  on  earth  that  ought  to  reach  him 
or  some  one  who  knows  him.  My  opinion  has  never 
changed  on  the  subject.  I  believe  him  to  have  died 
long  ago.  That's  why  I  was  willing  to  risk  loaning 
you  enough  to  live  on  until  you  could  come  into  pos- 
session of  what  belonged  to  you.  By-the-way,  the 
story  goes  that  this  father-in-law  of  yours  is  in  a 
pretty  tight  place  over  the  drop  in  things.  I  hope 
he's  provided  well  for  his  family.  No  man  has  a 
right  to  gamble  with  everything  when  there's  people 
depending  on  him." 

Feeling  that  he  was  one  of  those  "  depending  on  " 
Colonel  Newcombe,  Gray  reddened  at  this  state- 
ment, in  which  he  could  not  help  agreeing.  He  asked 
Mr.  Dibbs  his  opinion  as  to  the  future  of  the  market, 
and  received  the  honest  reply  that  he  had  not  the 
least  idea.  As  for  himself,  the  lawyer  said,  he  had 
never  speculated  to  the  extent  of  a  penny  and  never 
would.  He  believed  these  gambling  operations  in 
breadstuffs  and  meats  were  the  curse  of  the  country 
and  should  be  prohibited  by  law — not  meaning,  of 
course,  to  be  personal.  From  what  he  had  heard, 
however,  he  thought  things  would  get  another  drop 
before  they  began  to  rise  much.  All  of  which,  as 
may  be  imagined,  was  not  very  consoling  to  the 
anxious  listener. 

During  the  month  that  followed,  the  market  was 
in  a  tantalizing  state.  It  rose  a  few  fractions,  fell 
again,  rose  once  more,  went  down  to  the  old  point, 
and  disappointed  all  the  predictions  made  for  it. 


178  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAY. 

When  some  of  the  biggest  operators  had  got  things 
fixed  to  suit  them,  the  newspapers  said,  it  would  go 
one  way  or  the  other  with  a  rush. 

"  If  Colonel  Henry  Newcombe  was  able  to  take  a 
hand  in  person,"  remarked  the  Tribune  in  its  financial 
article,  "  things  would  become  more  interesting.  A 
big  deal  without  him  on  the  ground  is  an  anomaly." 

At  last  there  came  the  expected  move  in  the  prices 
of  stocks,  but  to  the  horror  of  Gilbert  Gray  it  came 
in  the  wrong  direction  for  him.  What  looked  like  a 
landslide  began,  and  one  after  another  of  the  specu- 
lators who  had  held  out  gave  way  before  the  gigantic 
forces  arrayed  on  the  bear  side.  He  telegraphed  to 
England,  and  waited  for  weary  hours  with  no  an- 
swer. There  was  nothing  left  that  he  could  throw 
into  the  scale,  except  the  old  stocks  and  the  life 
insurance,  and  in  this  matter  he  had  recently  been 
instructed,  as  in  everything  else,  to  "  use  his  judg- 
ment." It  was  a  hard  position  to  be  placed  in.  By 
supporting  the  Colonel's  investments  for  one  day — 
for  one  hour,  it  might  be — the  fortune  he  had  been 
all  his  life  accumulating  might  possibly  be  saved. 
On  the  other  hand,  every  cent  thrown  into  the  pit 
might  merely  be  added  to  what  had  gone  before  it. 
But  the  emergenc)'  pressed.  Gray  had  to  choose, 
and  he  chose  to  make  one  more  attempt  to  save  his 
father-in-law  from  ruin. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  he  must  go  to  Godkin  & 
Lancaster  again.  During  the  month  that  had  passed 
much  might  have  happened  to  influence  the  opinion 
of  the  new  firm,  but  it  was  either  there  or  nowhere. 

*'  Well  ?"  said  the  broker,  when  he  had  been  sum- 
n^oned. 


COLONEL   NEWCOMBE   BTJINED.  179 

He  was  the  personification  of  business  coolness 
and  sagacity. 

"  I  should  like  that  money  we  spoke  about,  the 
fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"  And  the  security  ?" 

"  The  same  as  before,  with  the  life  insurance 
added." 

Cats  always  love  to  play  with  the  mice  they  intend 
to  eat. 

"  That  talk  was  a  month  ago,  I  think/'  said  Mr. 
Lancaster,  critically. 

"Yes,"  stammered  Gray.  "But,  as  the  market 
has1  been  so  easy,  I  could  get  along  without  the 
money  till  now." 

"  And  when  you  cannot  get  along  without  it,  you 
want  us  to  take  the  risk  for  you  ?'' 

The  other  was  silent.  Was  he  to  be  refused,  after 
all? 

"  Well,"  said  Lancaster,  "  that  is,  in  a  certain  sense, 
our  particular  line  of  business.  All  we  ask  is  that 
the  profits  shall  compensate  for  the  dangers.  Since 
I  talked  with  you  we  have  had  large  investments  of- 
fered to  us,  and  have  taken  up  many  of  them.  The 
amount  we  have  handy  is  smaller,  naturally,  and  we 
must  have  a  larger  rate.' 

A  larger  rate  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  per 
cent,  a  year  ! 

**  What  rate  do  you  ask  ?"  said  Gray.  It  was  as 
well  to  come  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  Double  the  one  I  gave  you  before.  Now,  mind, 
I  am  not  asking  you  to  deal  with  us.  No  firm  call- 
ing itself  conservative  would  lend  you  a  dollar  as 
things  are,  at  any  price.  We  are  not  conservative 


180  LOVE   GONE   ASTEAT. 

and  so  far  we  have  got  along  very  well  with  our 
mode  of  doing  business."  He  paused  and  stood  like 
a  man  who  had  no  time  to  waste.  "  It  is  for  you  to 
say.'' 

"  I  will  take  it,"  replied  Gray,  promptly.  He  had 
heard  nothing  from  London,  and  did  not  dare  invite 
delay. 

Mr.  Lancaster  glanced  at  some  telegrams  that  lay 
on  his  desk,  and  then  excused  himself  for  a  moment 
while  he  went  into  the  next  office  to  consult  with  his 
partner. 

"  Fifty  thousand,  you  think,  will  be  enough  ?"  he 
asked,  returning. 

"  I  understood  it  was  all  you  would  loan." 

"  Yes,  I  did  say  so,"  was  the  thoughtful  reply,  "  but 
Mr.  Godkin  says  we  can  make  it  fifty-five,  if  you 
wish.' 

"  By  all  means." 

When  the  papers  were  drawn  and  signed,  and  the 
money  delivered,  Gray  went  upon  the  street  to  find 
that  he  was  none  too  soon.  Another  hour's  delay  would 
have  lowered  his  margins  below  the  necessary  point. 
He  put  up  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  and  before 
the  day  closed  had  to  deposit  another  sum  of  the 
same  amount.  Still  not  a  word  came  to  him  from 
London.  The  next  morning  dawned,  and  the  sun, 
before  it  reached  the  zenith,  saw  a  thousand  ruined 
speculators  pale  with  their  losses,  before  the  triumph 
of  the  great  Pool  that  had  ruined  them.  The  last 
penny  of  the  money  Gray  had  borrowed  went  like 
the  first,  so  much  tinder  in  the  flame.  The  name  of 
Colonel  Newcombe  was  called  upon  the  floor  of  the 
building  in  which  it  had  been  for  so  long  a  tower  of 


"JUST  MY   LUCK."  181 

strength,  and  the  last  of  the  fortune  he  had  made 
there  vanished  from  sight. 

Gilbert  felt  that  he  had  made  all  the  fight  possible, 
but  it  was  with  a  very  sad  heart  that  he  beheld  the 
end  of  his  efforts.  He  knew  that  nearly  everything 
the  Colonel  possessed  had  perished  in  that  affair. 
There  was  still  the  house  he  had  lived  in,  and  which 
he  had  given  to  his  wife  in  happier  days.  This 
would  have  to  be  sold  to  provide  even  the  ordinary 
necessaries  of  life  to  the  invalid.  As  for  the  son-in- 
law  and  the  daughter,  what  could  be  done  with  them, 
one  about  as  useful  to  society  as  the  other  ?  It  wa3 
a  dreary  prospect  that  presented  itself,  truly. 

It  is  often  said  that  there  is  no  depth  which  has 
not  a  greater  one  beneath.  A  cablegram  came  that 
evening  that  sounded  the  deeper  cavity  : 

"  Mrs.  Newcombe  died  yesterday.  Colonel  had  shock, 
doubtful  if  he  rallies,  Mrs.  Gray  prostrated.  I  await  di- 
rections. 

"YATES." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"JUST     MY     LUCK.* 

IT  was  no  new  thing  in  Gilbert  Gray's  experience 
to  be  short  of  money  ;  but  to  find  his  pockets  empty 
with  a  helpless  family  on  his  hands  was  much  worse 
than  the  same  circumstance  when  he  had  only  him- 
self to  think  of.  After  the  first  crushing  moments 


182  LOVE   GONE   ASTEAY. 

had  spent  themselves  he  began  to  calculate  what  it 
was  best  to  do.  In  his  purse  he  found  a  very  small 
sum  indeed.  The  very  hotel  in  which  he  was  staying 
had  a  bill  against  him,  or  rather  against  the  Colonel, 
for  it  was  upon  his  order  that  the  entertainment  had 
been  furnished.  Not  only  were  there  no  funds  to 
draw  on,  but  the  paper  he  had  given  Godkin  &  Lan- 
caster stood  as  an  indebtedness  against  the  New- 
combes. 

And  this  condition  of  affairs  confronted  the  young 
man  when  the  telegram  informed  him  that  a  pros- 
trated wife,  a  stricken  father-in-law  and  arrange- 
ments for  a  funeral  awaited  his  directions  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic  ocean  ! 

With  little  sleep  he  passed  the  long  night,  a  prey 
to  the  most  dismal  forebodings.  In  the  morning  he 
bethought  himself  of  the  two  hundred  dollars  that 
Mr.  Lancaster  owed  him,  and  went  to  that  gentle- 
man's office  to  get  it,  as  something  worth  recovering 
out  of  the  general  wreck.  He  found  Lancaster  walk- 
ing up  and  down,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
whistling  a  merry  tune. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  !"-  he  exclaimed,  when  he 
heard  Gray's  errand.  "Are  you  not  a  little  incon- 
siderate in  the  time  you  select  ?  As  near  as  I  can 
understand,  we  are  out  forty  thousand  dollars  by  you 
already." 

"  By  Colonel  Newcombe,"  corrected  Gilbert.  "  I 
acted  specifically  as  his  agent.  The  other  matter 
was  mine  alone." 

"  I  wish  you  had  taken  it  when  it  was  offered,"  said 
Lancaster.  "  The  fact  is,  we  are  about  as  short  now 
as  we  like  to  be.  That  devilish  market  broke  us  up 


"JUST   MY    LUCK."  183 

with  the  rest.  We  had  a  fine  calculation,  but  it  went 
awry.  If  it  had  succeeded  we  should  have  been 
among  the  best  of  them  when  the  accounts  were 
scored.  Now  we  are  practically  '  on  our  uppers,'  as 
the  saying  is,  cleaned  out  of  enough  good  cash  to  dis- 
gust a  Vanderbilt." 

He  smiled  as  he  said  this,  and  began  again  to 
whistle  the  tune  he  had  left  off. 

"  You  do  not  act  like  a  very  dispirited  man,"  said 
Gray,  wonderingly. 

"Oh!  What's  the  use  ?  It's  not  the  first  time  I've 
been  through  trouble,  and  I've  got  used  to  taking 
whatever  comes  my  way.  Spilt  milk  isn't  worth  cry- 
ing for." 

Gray  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  Then  you  can't  let  me  have  it,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  can  ;  I'm  not  quite  so  badly  fixed  as  that. 
Only  it  would  have  been  easier  when  you  came 
before,  for  then  I  was  riding  on  the  top  of  the  wave, 
while  now  I'm  nearer  the  bottom."  He  sat  down  at 
a  desk  and  wrote  out  a  check.  "  Here,  I've  added 
ten  dollars  for  interest.  I  don't  want  to  owe  you 
anything." 

His  last  words  were  spoken  with  a  tinge  of  the 
venom  of  old  times,  which  Gilbert  could  not  help 
noting,  but  before  he  could  remark  upon  it,  Lancas- 
ter had  branched  into  another  subject. 

"  What's  the  latest  news  from  Colonel  New- 
combe  ?" 

"  He's  had  a  paralytic  shock,"  said  Gray,  soberly. 

"Of  course  I  knew  that — I  wouldn't  have  lent 
money  on  his  life  insurance  if  I  hadn't — but  I  mean, 


184  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

| 

what's  the  prospect  ?  How  long  should  yo&  say  he 
ought  to  live  ?" 

Gray  shrank  from  the  cold-bloodedness  of  the 
question.  So  this  man  had  been  informed  of  that 
shock  to  the  Colonel  hours  and  hours  before  ^knew 
it,  and  had  loaned  the  lost  money  on  that  account. 
And  at  this  moment  he  was  figuring  on  the  death 
that  must  ensue,  with  no  other  thought  than  to  re- 
cover as  soon  as  possible  the  amount  he  had  at  stake. 
There  was  something  uncanny  in  the  fellow,  as  Gray 
had  long  ago  had  occasion  to  feel.  The  less  he  had 
to  do  with  him  the  better.  He  took  up  the  check 
that  had  been  made  out  in  his  name  with  an  idea  that 
it  might  crumble  to  pieces  in  his  fingers. 

"  I  hope  Colonel  Newcombe  will  live  many,  many 
years  yet,"  he  answered,  with  a  firm  voice.  "  Shocks 
are  not  always  fatal,  and  I  await  news  of  his  condi- 
tion with  great  hope." 

Mr.  Lancaster  laughed. 

"  It  would  be  just  my  devilish  luck  if  he  did  live," 
said  he.  "And,  by  George!  I  need  that  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  this  minute.  But  I'm  in  good  com- 
pany. You  must  be  as  near  strapped  as  any  one. 
Going  back  to  England,  I  suppose,  as  soon  as  you 
can  get  started.  Perhaps  we  shall  be  passengers  on 
the  same  boat,  for  that's  exactly  what  I'm  going  to 
do  myself." 

Gray  got  out  of  the  office  with  what  grace  he  could, 
and  went  back  to  his  hotel,  where  he  found  a  line 
from  his  wife,  to  this  effect : 

"  Have  arranged  for  temporary  interment ;  papa  no  worse; 
see  to  everything  necessary  before  you  come  ;  I  am  much 
stronger.  GLA.DYS." 


"JUST   MY    LTTCK."  185 

It  was  something.  He  pictured  to  himself  the 
scene.  The  young  mother  bending  over  the  body  of 
her  loved  one,  broken-hearted  with  her  loss,  taking 
upon  herself  for  the  first  time  responsibilities  she 
knew  so  little  how  to  sustain.  Gladys  had  risen  un- 
expectedly to  the  emergency,  and  would  "  hold  the 
fort"  till  he  could  decide  what  to  do. 

Wandering  about  his  hotel,  puzzled  with  his 
dilemma,  Gilbert  ran  across  Israel  Dibbs,  and  was 
delighted  to  see  that  homely  face,  belonging  to  one 
to  whom  he  could  at  least  unveil  his  troubles.  Dibbs 
listened  without  a  word  till  Gray  had  told  the  out- 
lines of  his  story,  and  then  began  to  take  up  the 
various  threads. 

"It  amounts  to  just  this,  doesn't  it  ?"  said  he, 
"The  Newcombe  millions  have  shrunk  to  the  houss 
and  furniture  in  this  city,  and  what  is  left  of  the  lifa 
insurance." 

Gray  ruefully  admitted  that  this  was  about  the 
situation. 

"  And  what  is  the  Chicago  property  worth  ?" 

Gray  was  obliged  to  say  he  did  not  know. 

"I'll  find  out  approximately,"  said  Dibbs,  rising 
and  crossing  the  room,  to  hold  a  whispered  conver- 
sation with  a  man  whom  he  saw  there,  buried  in  the 
columns  of  the  morning  paper.  "  It's  worth  some- 
thing like  forty  thousand  dollars,  if  forced  upon  the 
market,  fifty  if  time  is  allowed,"  was  the  verdict  which 
he  brought  back.  "Then  you  say  there  is  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  margin  on  the  insurance,  over 
and  above  what  is  pledged  to  the  broker.  Why,  my 
boy,  you  are  not  paupers  by  any  means." 


186  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAT. 

The  young  man  tried  to  see  it  in  that  light,  but 
could  not  entirely  agree  with  the  lawyer. 

"  I  don't  like  to  count  the  insurance  on  a  live  man 
as  part  of  his  assets,"  he  said,  "  and  the  house  where 
my  wife  has  lived  and  to  which  she  has  always  ex- 
pected to  return  is  an  unpleasant  thing  to  part  with. 
I  am  sure  she  will  think  so  if  the  subject  has  to  be 
broached  to  her." 

"  Bah  !"  said  Dibbs.  "  You  don't  talk  like  a  busi- 
ness man  at  all.  You  never  did,  for  that  matter.  I 
offered  you  enough  to  live  on,  long  ago " 

But  Gilbert  interrupted,  and  said  he  did  not  want 
to  discuss  that. 

"Very  well,  let  it  go.  Now,  what  should  I  do,  if  I 
were  in  your  case  ?  Raise  another  ten  thousand  on 
that  life  insurance  as  quick  as  I  could  do  it.  Go  to 
England,  settle  up  things  there,  bring  Mrs.  New- 
combe's  body  and  what  is  left  of  her  husband  home. 
Go  and  live  in  the  house  here  and  watch  a  good 
chance  to  sell  it  for  all  it's  worth,  in  case  the  Colonel 
continues  to  live.  If  he  dies  take  the  balance  of  his 
insurance  money  and  live  economically  on  it  for 
three  years  more,  until  you  come  into  the  Blair  es- 
tate, and  then  you  won't  need  to  think  of  the  future, 
for  there  will  be  enough  for  all  of  you." 

The  programme  was  too  complicated  to  be  ac- 
cepted as  a  whole  without  much  consideration,  but  it 
was  evident  that  ready  money  must  be  had,  and  the 
insurance  scheme  looked  the  best  of  any  if  it  could 
be  carried  out. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  raise  any  more  on  the 
policies  ?"  asked  Gilbert,  doubtfully,, 


RETURNING   TO   LONDON.  187 

"  How  old  is  Colonel  Newcombe?"  was  the  ques- 
tion of  the  lawyer. 

"Sixty-seven." 

"  And  he  has  had  a  paralytic  shock.  Can  you 
borrow  any  more  ?  Why,  I'll  lend  you  ten,  myself. 
And  if  you  wish  I'll  pay  these  brokers  off  and  take 
the  whole.  They're  charging  you  too  much,  twenty 
per  cent,  a  month.  I'll  take  the  whole  thing  for 
five." 

With  this  Mr.  Dibbs  opened  the  palms  of  his  hands 
and  spread  them  out  in  an  unconsciously  Hebraic 
way  that  brought  a  smile  to  Gilbert's  face,  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  distress.  He  knew  no  reason,  however, 
why  he  should  not  accept  this  offer,  and  after  a  little 
further  talk  he  closed  with  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

RETURNING    TO    LONDON. 

WHEN  the  cash  was  in  Gilbert's  hands  he  felt  for 
the  moment  like  a  new  man,  and  replied  to  his  wife's 
telegram,  asking  her  to  remain  where  she  was  till  he 
could  come,  and  adding  a  word  or  two  of  love,  even 
at  the  price  the  cable  companies  charge  for  such 
communications.  During  the  next  week  he  settled 
all  the  affairs  connected  with  the  Newcombes,  visited 
the  residence  they  had  occupied,  which  he  found 
delightfully  situated  and  elegantly  furnished,  and 


188  LOVE   GONE    ASTEAY. 

made  his  way  to  New  York,  where  he  waited  a  couple 
of  days  for  the  steamer  on  which  he  was  to  sail. 

Here  he  was  destined  once  more  to  come  in  con- 
tact with  Joseph  Lancaster,  a  name  by  which  that 
disagreeable  individual  had  now  become  accustomed 
to  be  known  in  his  mind.  While  taking  a  lunch  in  a 
restaurant,  and  occupied  also  in  reading  an  English 
newspaper,  Lancaster  espied  him  and  crossed  the 
room. 

"  'Pon  my  word,  a  pleasant  surprise  !"  was  his  first 
exclamation,  and  he  had  need  to  say  no  more  before 
Gray  discovered  that  liquor  had  somewhat  thickened 
his  tongue.  "  Nothing  so  delightful's  meeting  a 
friend,  when  one's  in  a  strange  country." 

There  were  only  two  things  to  do — either  to  have  a 
row  with  him,  and  tell  him  his  society  was  not  wanted, 
or  to  bear  the  infliction  of  his  presence  a  little  while. 
Gray  did  not  want  the  former,  and  as  he  had  not 
finished  his  lunch,  the  latter  seemed  the  most  advis- 
able course. 

"  I'm  going  to  England,  Saturday,"  pursued  Lan- 
caster, seeming  to  take  his  welcome  as  a  matter  of 
course.  "On  the  Umbria.  Nice  boat.  Same  I 
came  over  on.  Funny  things  have  happened  since 
then,  eh  ?  'Pon  my  word,  when  I  landed  in  this 
blessed  town,  I  hadn't  a  dollar  to  my  name.  Only 
for  that  fifteen  thousand  dollars  on  the  old  gentle- 
man, that  your  friend  Bibbs,  or  Dibbs,  or  whatever 
his  name  is,  paid  in,  I'd  have  had  to  stay  in  Chicago 
or  walked  here.  I  was  just  shutting  up  the  shop. 
When  you're  broke  you're  no  broker,  ha,  ha  !  I  took 
that  fifteen  thousand,  and  in  two  days  ten  of  it  was 
gone-  When  the  Umbria  sails  it's  two  to  one  I  go  on 


3ETURNING   TO    LONDON.  189 

board  with  nothing  but  my  ticket  and  three  sover- 
eigns for  the  stewards.  What  a  cuss  I  am  !" 

To  this  remarkable  statement  Gray  contented 
himself  with  occasional  bows,  though  the  recital, 
which  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt  was  a  correct  one, 
astonished  him  immensely. 

"  It  was  the  damnedest  thing,  the  way  that  market 
went  !"  pursued  Lancaster,  with  only  a  pause  for 
breath.  "  The  first  week  after  I  took  hold  of  it  I 
made  money  like  smoke.  I  sold  everything  short, 
and  my  profits  were  enormous.  Then,  says  I  to  my- 
self, you'd  better  haul  in  your  lines,  old  boy,  and 
embark,  as  a  money  lender.  I  had  what  I  thought  a 
solid  tip  from  the  inside  that  wheat  was  going  to 
sixty  and  stop  there,  and  I  was  in,  I  thought,  for  all 
the  chances  when  it  got  ready  to  turn.  In  the  mean- 
time I  was  to  get  big  interest  on  my  money.  But, 
confound  the  thing  !  I  was  bamboozled  as  well  as 
the  rest,  by  the  big  ring.  My  profits  went  out  of  the 
window  faster  than  they  came  in.  That  insur- 
ance loan  was  positively  the  only  thing  I  saved. 
Say,  what  will  you  have  to  drink  ?" 

A  declination  to  drink  anything  beyond  the  bottle 
of  beer  he  was  already  consuming,  had  no  effect  on 
the  Englishman,  who  loudly  ordered  a  waiter  to 
bring  two  glasses  of  Scotch,  very  hot,  one  for  him- 
self and  one  for  "  the  other  gent."  Not  waiting  till 
the  liquors  arrived,  he  then  launched  out  in  a  long 
tirade  against  the  institutions  of  America,  where  noth- 
ing, it  appeared,  was  to  his  liking,  and  the  business 
men  of  which  he  considered  the  biggest  rogues  and 
cut-throats  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

"I  ain't  including  you,  Gray,  in  what  I'm  saying," 


190  LOVE    GONE    A8TBAY. 

he  added,  when  his  listener  showed  signs  of  uneasi- 
ness that  even  his  befuddled  brain  could  not  help  see- 
ing. "You  are,  on  the  whole,  the  squarest  man  lever 
met — too  much  so,  in  fact,  for  your  own  interests. 
Understand,"  he  continued,  dropping  his  voice,  "  I 
know  a  good  deal  about  you  that  isn't  common 
property,  and  I  think  you've  acted  on  the  square 
where  some  wouldn't.  In  all  that  Newcombe  busi- 
ness you've  been  what  I  call  White.  You've  stuck 
to  your  agreements  like  a — like  a  Man.  And  if 
others  ain't  done  as  they  should,  or  if  they  don't  in 
the  future,  that  ain't  your  fault.  I've  said  it  afore, 
and  I'll  say  it  anywhere,  to  anybody." 

Gilbert  Gray's  knife  and  fork  dropped  to  his  plate, 
and  his  very  heart  stood  still  as  he  heard  these  omin- 
ous words.  In  vino  veritas !  The  liquor  in  this 
fellow's  head  had  set  him  to  talking  in  a  way  he 
would  probably  have  never  done  had  he  been  sober. 
But  what  did  he  mean  ?  what  did  he  know  ?  and 
how  had  he  learned  a  secret  that  had  been  thought 
so  well  kept?  There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation 
what  course  to  pursue  ;  whether  to  listen  longer 
to  this  wretch,  perhaps  even  to  ply  him  with  ques- 
tions, or  to  get  away  from  him  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  breathe  an  air  untainted  by  his  presence. 

The  latter  course  was  the  one  adopted.  Gray  had 
never  deviated  from  his  early  determination  to  stand 
through  everything  by  the  Pretenses  he  had  as- 
sumed. To  discuss  any  other  contingency  was  to 
admit  everything.  He  could  only  profess  by  his 
manner  not  to  understand  the  mutterings  of  this 
half-intoxicated  man,  and  to  trust  that  whatever  he 
knew  or  suspected  would  be  divulged  to  no  one  else. 


RETURNING    TO    LONDON.  191 

But  what  did  he  know,  and  what  did  he  suspect? 
How  should  he  know  anything  of  that  Secret  hidden 
so  closely  ! 

"  I  shall  have  to  leave  you,"  said  Gray,  making  a 
pretense  of  consulting  his  watch.  "  I  have  an  en- 
gagement." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lancaster,  grasping  his  hand  in 
spite  of  him.  "  Mum's  the  word,  you  know  !  Ta, 
ta  !  See  you  in  London."  Then  he  added,  in  a 
strangely  different  manner  from  the  one  he  had  be- 
fore assumed,  "No  'fence,  I  hope  !  No  harm  done  ! 
And  you  won't  say  I  blabbed,  for  it's  all  on  honor. 
Don't'mention  that  I  talked  about  anything — not  to 
Darius  Yates,  or  anybody.  Eh  !" 

Gray  shook  his  head  rapidly  and  got  out  of  the 
restaurant  as  quickly  as  he  could.  He  did  not  like 
the  looks  of  what  he  had  heard.  The  use  of  Mr. 
Yates'  name  at  the  end  struck  him  as  particularly 
disagreeable.  He  could  not  believe  the  crafty  solici- 
tor had  allowed  a  professional  matter  to  slip  from 
him,  a  piece  of  business  in  which  he  himself  had 
played  an  unlawful  part,  and  which  would  naturally 
be  kept  as  secret  as  the  inner  workings  of  a  lodge- 
room. 

The  unpleasant  feelings  engendered  made  him  re- 
solve to  exchange,  if  possible,  the  ticket  he  had 
already  purchased  on  the.Umbria  for  one  on  another 
boat.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  of  making  a 
week's  voyage  in  the  company  of  the  man  he  had 
just  left.  To  his  joy  the  transfer  was  easily  made,  and 
though  the  boat  he  took  was  one  day  later  in  reach- 
ing the  English  coast,  he  was  highly  satisfied  with  the 
arrangement. 


192  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

He  wired  to  Gladys  the  name  of  his  new  steamer, 
but  when  it  came  to  adding  the  usual  expressions  of 
affection  he  found  himself  unequal  to  the  task.  His 
mind  was  too  much  upset  to  form  the  right  sen- 
tences. Of  all  the  troubles  he  had  had,  those  refer- 
ring to  his  peculiar  marriage  were  the  hardest  to 
bear.  So  much  time  had  passed  without  hearing  the 
faintest  breath  of  suspicion  directed  against  him  that 
he  had  come  to  regard  this,  at  least,  as  one  of  the 
things  he  need  not  dread.  If  the  facts,  or  any  part 
of  them,  were  in  the  possession  of  so  unscrupulous  a 
fellow  as  Neiling,  or  Lancaster,  or  whatever  else  he 
might  choose  to  be  called,  there  would  always  be 
cause  for  anxiety.  And  at  present  he  had  enough 
else  to  bear. 

He  thought  it  all  over  on  the  steamer,  as  he  trav- 
ersed the  ocean.  The  arrangement  he  had  made 
with  the  Newcombes  had  not  been  all  sunshine,  but 
he  had  no  right  to  complain.  He  had  embraced  its 
conditions  at  a  time  when  he  seemed  drifting  stead- 
ily to  either  starvation  or  suicide.  He  had  taken 
Gladys  "  for  better,  for  worse,"  to  protect  her  name 
and  that  of  her  little  one.  It  was  silly  to  be  fright- 
ened by  the  bark  of  a  dog,  that  probably  had  too 
much  cowardice  to  bite.  Still,  look  at  it  as  he  might,  it 
was  not  agreeable  to  feel  that  Lancaster  had  it  in  his 
power  to  say  things  that  would  excite  doubt.  The 
only  consolation  was  that  the  strange  Englishman 
was  on  his  way  to  his  own  country,  whence,  if  he  was 
to  be  believed,  he  would  never  go  to  the  United  States 
again.  Once  settled  in  Chicago,  Gilbert  felt  that  he 
would  be  in  little  danger  from  that  source. 

When   he  reached  the  hotel  at  which  the  family 


BKTUBNING   TO  LONDON.  193 

were  staying,  Gladys  rushed  weeping  into  his  arms. 
She  wore  a  haggard  look,  which  her  trials  accounted 
for,  and  clung  to  her  husband's  breast  for  a  longtime 
wtthout  uttering  any  articulate  word  other  than  terms 
of  endearment.  Gilbert  soothed  her  as  best  he  could, 
though  he  did  not  respond  very  fully  to  her  caresses. 
He  was  too  anxious  to  learn  the  exact  condition  of 
affairs. 

It  appeared  that  there  had  been  no  great  change. 
Colonel  Newcombe  was  able  to  move  about  slowly, 
but  his  mental  powers  had  received  a  severe  wrench. 
He  persisted  in  staying  most  of  the  time  in  the  room 
where  his  wife  had  died,  and  appeared  lost  to  all 
other  subjects.  Since  his  shock  he  had  not  once 
spoken  of  business  matters.  He  was,  in  short,  quite 
broken  in  mind,  and  the  doctors  said  he  would  never 
be  any  better.  The  baby — Gladys  spoke  of  Marianne 
only  when  asked  about  her,  and  then  with  a  shy  hesi- 
tation— was  the  only  011-2  in  the  family  who  seemed 
entirely  well.  For,  she  did  not  fail  to  remark,  Gil- 
bert himself  looked  lik«  one  who  had  just  risen  from 
a  sick  bed. 

He  told  her  the  voyage  had  been  rather  rough,  and 
went  with  her  to  sae  her  father.  It  was  a  severe  trial 
to  meet  the  old  gentleman,  in  his  present  state  ; 
worse,  he  thought,  than  to  have  found  him  in  his 
coffin.  The  tall,  bent  form,  the  iron-gray  hair,  the 
dignified  bearing  were  left,  but  the  light  in  the  dark 
eyes  was  not  the  familiar  one.  When  asked  if  he 
knew  Gilbert,  the  Colonel  answered,  "  Why,  cer- 
tainly ;  it's "  and  the  name  had  to  be  furnished 

him  before  he  could  pronounce  it. 

"  I  can't  talk  long  to  you,"  he  added.     "  I  have  to 


194  LOVE  GONE   ASTKAT. 

stay  with  Her.     She  needs  me."     And  he  pointed  to 
the  empty  bed  as  he  spoke. 

That  was  the  true  marriage  love,  the  love  that  fol- 
lows its  object  beyond  the  bounds  of  earth,  that  does 
not  separate the  grave.  Mrs.  Newcombe  did,  per- 
haps, need  him,  indeed  !  It  may  be,  from  the  other 
side  of  the  veil  that  hid  her,  she  still  called  him  to 
her  side  ! 

There  were  immense  bills  to  pay — bills  that  quite 
astounded  Gray  when  they  were  presented.  For  three 
months  the  hotel  where  they  all  lived  had  received 
nothing.  The  doctors  were  rapacious  beyond  belief. 
The  undertaker  was  a  man  without  conscience.  The 
money  Gilbert  had  brought  home  dwindled  rapidly 
as  he  settled  these  accounts.  He  said  nothing  to 
Gladys  about  the  condition  of  the  estate,  preferring 
to  wait  to  the  very  last  moment  before  going  into 
that  painful  subject.  It  was  decided  that  Colonel 
Newcombe  could  travel,  and  arrangements  were 
made  for  going  to  America  at  the  earliest  practicable 
date. 

One  evening  Joseph  Lancaster  waylaid  Mr.  Gray 
and  asked,  in  the  most  craven  tones,  for  the  loan  of 
forty  pounds — just  the  same  two  hundred  dollars  he 
had  repaid,  he  said,  not  mentioning  the  eight  thousand 
pounds  he  had  lost.  If  he  could  have  it  he  promised  to 
repay  it  on  the  following  day.  It  was  only  a  tempor- 
ary expedient,  and  of  the  utmost  importance  to  him. 

Prudence  asserted  itself  and  the  money  was  loaned. 
And  what  was  strange,  it  was  repaid  punctually. 

"  Where  does  his  money  come  from  and  where 
does  it  go?"  asked  Gray,  vainly,  as  he  put  the  forty 
pounds  back  in  his  pocket. 


**TOU'VK   GOT    THB   FBETTIEST   WIFE." 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

"  YOU'VE  GOT    THE  PRETTIEST  WIFE." 

AMONG  the  bills  which  came  in  at  the  last  moment 
was  one  of  six  hundred  pounds  from  Mr.  Darius 
Yatee,  for  "legal  services  and  expenses."  No  items 
were  given,  but  Mr.  Yates  said  in  a  note  which  he 
enclosed  that  the  matter  extended  over  a  period  of 
several  years  and  that  he  had  been  considerate  in  the 
amount,  owing  to  the  troubles  that  had  befallen  the 
Newcombe  family.  This  account  worried  Gilbert 
immensely,  and  he  felt  obliged  to  go  to  Gladys  to 
ask  if  she  knew  anything  about  it. 

"  Did — did  Mr.  Yates  send  you  this  ?"  she  asked, 
opening  her  eyes  in  wonder, 

"  Yes,  just  as  you  see  it.  If  this  sort  of  thing 
keeps  on  we  shall  all  land  in  the  poorhouse  before 
we  can  get  out  of  England." 

"  I  guess  it's  not  so  bad  as  that,"  replied  Gladys, 
smiling  faintly,  "  But  I  am  surprised  at  this  bill.  I 
always  understood,"  she  explained,  "that  it  was  a — a 
matter  of  friendship — his  dealings  with  father.  I — I 
can't  understand  it  in  the  least.  Still,"  she  paused 
to  consider,  "  I  would  pay  it  without  making  any 
talk  ;  that  is  the  easiest  way  out  of  it." 

Gilbert  breathed  a  sigh  of  distress. 

"My  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "  you  will  have  to  know 
some  time,  and  I  may  as  well  tell  you  now,  that 
money  to  meet  bills  of  this  size  is  not  as  plenty  with 
your  father  as  it  once  was.  This  means  three  thou- 


196  LOVE   0ONB  ASTBAY. 

sand  dollars,  and  to  teil  the  truth,  it  will  cramp  me 
very  much." 

He  saw  that  she  did  not  comprehend  the  full 
meaning  of  what  he  said,  and  he  had  no  heart  to  tell 
her  the  entire  truth.  She  only  repeated  that  it  would 
be  better  to  settle  all  bills  and  feel  that  there  was 
nothing  forthcoming  to  bother  him. 

"  But,  what  could  Yates  have  done  to  come  to  such 
a  sum  ?"  he  demanded.  He  was  not  used  to  dealing 
with  men  of  the  law  who  rendered  bills  of  that  size. 

"You  know — some — of  the  things,"  stammered  his 
wife.  "  We  certainly  don't  want  any  dispute  with 
him.  You  can  see — it  would  not  be  wise." 

Yes,  he  could  see  it,  but  he  did  not  like  the  appear- 
ance of  the  bill  any  better  for  that.  He  thought  it  a 
distinctly  excessive  charge,  and  one  that  would 
not  have  been  rendered  if  Colonel  Newcombe  had 
not  been  past  giving  evidence  in  the  matter.  Little 
as  he  liked  to  meet  Mr.  Yates,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to 
discuss  the  bill  with  him  before  he  paid  it  in  full,  and 
he  went  to  the  solicitor's  office  for  that  purpose. 

Mr.  Yates  was  in,  and  rose  with  a  subdued  sort  of 
cordiality  to  welcome  his  visitor,  first  closing  the 
door  that  stood  open  in  the  rear  of  his  desk. 

"  I  got  this  bill  from  you  to-day,"  was  the  short 
way  in  which  Gray  opened  the  conversation. 

«  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Yates. 

*'  And  I  was  somewhat  surprised  at  its  amount." 

"Ah  !"  said  the  solicitor,  again. 

"  We  have  suffered  losses,  as  you  know,"  went  on 
Gray, "  and  are  doing  the  best  we  canto  pull  our- 
selves out  of  the  mire.  And  things  like  this,  of 


"YOU'VE  GOT  THE  PRETTIEST  WIFE."         197 

which  I  had  no  previous  warning,  are  not  particularly 
agreeable." 

"  Ah  !"  repeated  Mr.  Yates.  Then,  when  the  other 
waited  for  him  to  add  something  to  this  expression, 
he  said,  "  I  am  not  in  the  least  haste  for  this  money. 
I  only  sent  the  bill  because  my  client  was  about  to 
leave  England." 

Gray  was  somewhat  mollified. 

"  But  still  I  am  surprised  that  Colonel  Newcombe 
should  owe  you  so  much,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Gray — my 
wife — says  she  thought  what  you  did — for  the  Col- 
onel— was  in  the  way  of  friendship — that  it  was  not 
a  legal  matter  at  alL." 

The  solicitor  opened  his  eyes  wider. 

"  Did  Mrs.  Gray  say  that  ?"  he  asked.  **  Very  well, 
then.  Do  you  want  me  to  call  it  'a  matter  of  friend- 
ship'?" 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  friendship  for  me,  or  for 
Mrs.  Gray,"  was  the  annoyed  reply,  "  but  for  Col- 
onel Newcombe.  Of  course  you  know  what  your 
relations  with  him  were.  If  the  bill  is  due — if  there 
is  nothing  justly  deductible  from' it — I  shall  see  it 
paid.  Only,  to  speak  the  exact  truth,  it  looks  to  me 
rather  large." 

There  was  a  moment  of  waiting,  the  solicitor  seem- 
ing to  prefer  that  Gray  should  finish  all  he  had  to 
say  before  he  made  any  suggestion.  Then,  when  it 
was  apparent  that  the  latter  had  come  to  the  only 
point  he  meant  to  advance  for  the  present,  the  lawyer 
spoke  agaia. 

"I  did  a  great  deal  for  Colonel  Newcombe,"  said 
he,  impressively.  "  Perhaps  the  fact  that  I  liked  him 
influenced  me  to  go  farther  than  I  might  have  done 


198  LOVE   GONE    A8TBAY. 

for  an  ordinary  client,  but  that  is  no  reason  I  should 
not  be  paid  for  my  work  and  expenses.  You  know 
one  of  the  things  I  did.  You  know  it  was  not  with- 
out some  cost.  Why,  the  very  cash  I  paid  to  you, 
and  for  you,  is  included  in  that  bill !  I  couldn't 
itemize  things  like  those,  but  I  see  no  reason  why  I 
should  stand  them  out  of  my  own  pocket." 

The  recollections  thus  brought  up  staggered  Gray, 
but  he  felt  that  his  duty  compelled  him  to  say  that 
those  expenses — whatever  they  were — could  have 
made  but  a  small  part  of  six  hundred  pounds. 

"  Oh,  they  were  not  all,  by  any  means,"  was  the 
ready  answer.  "  I  had  to  do  other  things,  that  Col- 
onel Newcombe  could  not  do  for  himself,  and  which, 
if  you  insist,  I  will  give  you  in  greater  detail." 

There  was  an  air  of  mystery  about  this  statement 
that  contributed  to  Gray's  nervousness  and  made 
him  wish  he  were  well  out  of  the  affair.  Imagination 
took  wild  flights  as  to  what  these  "other  things" 
might  have  been.  Perhaps  dealing  with  the  father 
of  Gladys*  child  was  one  of  them  !  Certainly  they 
included  the  bribery  at  Amsterdam.  The  more  he 
thought  the  less  he  was  willing  to  have  that  chapter 
of  his  wife's  life  reopened. 

"  And  you  have  had  nothing  on  account  ?"  he 
asked,  desperately. 

"  Not  a  ha'penny.  I  knew  the  Colonel  was  rich 
and  honorable.  I  was  in  no  haste  for  the  money,  any 
more  than  I  am  now.  Don't  worry  yourself  about 
it,  Mr.  Gray.  And  as  I  said  before,  if  you  want  me 
to  pay  those  things  myself — out  of  friendship  for 
you — and  for  Mrs.  Gray — you  have  only  to  say  the 
word." 


"  TOU*VE    GOT    THE   PBETTIEST   WIFE."  199 

There  was  the  aroma  of  an  indefinable  insult  in 
this  proposition,  thus  repeated,  that  stung  the 
younger  man  to  the  quick.  He  replied  with  heat 
that  he  wished  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  that,  if  it 
should  not  be  convenient  for  this  bill  to  be  settled 
before  Colonel  Newcome  left  England,  he  hoped  in- 
terest would  be  added  to  it. 

"That  is  the  right  spirit  to  show,"  said  the  solici- 
tor, with  a  poor  pretense  of  complimenting  him, 
"You  realize  as  well  as  I  that  most  of  these  items 
are  not  collectible  in  a  court  of  justice.  They  hang 
on  th'e  honor  of  one  man  in  dealing  with  another. 
It  would  not  do  to  bring  to  the  gaze  of  a  cold,  un- 
feeling world  certain  matters  that  are  so  far  the 
property  of  no  one  but  you,  your  wife,  her  father  and 
myself." 

Gray  shivered. 

"Are  you  sure,"  he  replied,  thinking  of  Lancas- 
ter's insinuations,  "  that  the  secret  is  still  within  the 
narrow  limit  of  which  you  speak  ?" 

The  solicitor  sat  more  upright  in  his  chair  as  he 
asked  the  object  of  the  question. 

"  Because,"  explained  Gray,  "  there  is  another  per- 
son who  has  thrown  out  hints  to  me  several  times — 
hints  that  showed  too  plainly  he  knew  something 
irregular  had  occurred." 

Yates  met  the  anxious  look  with  a  blank  one,  as  if 
he  could  not,  for  the  life  of  him,  make  out  what  his 
companion  meant. 

"  Some  one — has  thrown  out — hints  ?"  he  repeated. 
"  Are  you  certain  you  have  not  been  misled  by  your 
fears  ?" 

"  Quite  certain.     He  made  allusions  the  last  time 


200  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

that  could  not  be  mistaken.  He  was  somewhat  in 
drink  and  forgot  his  usual  prudence." 

At  the  mention  of  drink  a  look  of  intelligence 
came  into  the  other's  face. 

"You  don't  mean  that  fellow — what  did  he  call 
himself — Neiling  ?" 

"And  if  I  do  ?"  asked  Gray,  sharply. 

"  Why,  if  you  do,"  said  Yates,  "  he  doesn't  amount 
to  that  r  He  snapped  his  fingers  to  show  the  exact 
estimate  at  which  he  held  the  person  alluded  to. 
"  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing — if  he  says  a  word 
I'll  put  him  where  he  won't  enjoy  going,  too  !" 

"  I've  not  said  it  was  he,"  replied  Gray,  disliking 
to  have  the  matter  go  too  far.  "  Indeed,  the  person 
who  spoke  to  me  bore  quite  a  different  name." 

Mr.  Yates  shook  his  head. 

"  He  bears  names  enough,"  he  answered.  "  As 
many  as  he  likes  ;  but  it  was  the  same  man — there 
couldn't  be  any  other.  Drunk  or  sober,  he  must  hold 
his  tongue,  or  it  will  be  worse  for  him  !" 

The  solicitor  had  lashed  himself  into  quite  a  fury, 
and  Gray  was  glad  to  put  an  end  to  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  Well,  about  this  bill,  then,"  said  he,  rising  ;  "  I 
will  pay  it  as  soon  as  convenient,  and  you  may — I 
would  rather  you  did — add  the  interest." 

The  solicitor  indicated  that  this  was  a  matter  of 
small  moment. 

'*  You  had  a  deuce  of  a  time  over  there  at  Chicago, 
I  understand,"  he  said.  "  I  saw  the  Colonel  every 
day  and  knew  what  was  going  on.  Pity  to  see  a  nice 
fortune  like  his  go  up  in  smoke.  It  didn't  cripple 
you  entirely,  I  trus*." 


*  FOU'  r»   &Of  YHfi   PUEV11EST   WIFB.  *  201 

Mr.  Gray  replied,  as  briefly  as  he  could,  that  there 
was  still  left  enough  to  get  along  on.  He  also  men- 
tioned, with  a  little  pride,  that  he  would  soon  be  in 
possession  of  an  estate  of  his  own  and  independent 
of  everybody. 

"  Yes,  1  remember,"  said  Yates,  reminiscently.  "  So 
the  other  heir  never  turned  up?  If  he  doesn't  come 
to  light  before  the  end  of  five  years  from  the  death 
of  Mr.— Mr. " 

"  Blair." 

"  Mr.  Blair,  you  get  half  the  old  gentleman  left, 
eh  ?  How  much  do  you  think  that  will  be  ?" 

"Over  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  replied 
Gray,  glad  to  be  able  to  name  such  a  comfortable 
figure. 

"  Well,  well  !  that's  not  so  bad.  A  very  decent 
windfall.  It  all  comes  back  to  me  now,  what  you  told 
me  when  we  first  met,  about  your  refusing  to  take  a 
cent  of  it  till  the  full  limit  expired.  Very  honorable 
of  you,  certainly.  And  in  the  meantime  you've  had 
your  ups  and  downs.  Your  fortune  from  the  New- 
combes  has  fled,  but  all  is  not  lost.  You've  got  a 
treasure  in  your  wife  that  no  man  can  take  away." 

At  this  unexpected  reference  to  Gladys,  Gilbert 
colored  deeply.  He  resented  the  allusion,  but  it  was 
made  in  polite  terms  and  he  could  not  show  his  sen- 
timents without  appearing  silly.  The  most  that  he 
wanted  now  was  to  get  away  from  this  man,  whose 
presence  he  had  never  learned  to  like,  and  who  was 
liable  to  irritate  him  to  the  fullest  degree  without 
the  least  apparent  intention  of  so  doing.  Gray  put 
his  hand  on  the  doorknob,  but  was  arrested  by  one 
other  expression  of  the  kind  he  detested. 


202  LOVE   GONE   ASTKAY. 

"You've  got  the  prettiest  wife  in  the  world,  and, 
in  spite  of  what  is  past,  the  best.  The  child,  too,  no 
one  could  help  loving  her.  And  I  assure  you  once 
more,  your  secret  is  safe.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but 
to  enjoy  life  to  the  full,  as  a  man  of  your  parts  and 
circumstances  ought  to  do.  I  don't  think  you've 
ever  been  really  sorry  for  the  bargain  I  led  you 
into." 

Gray  could  bear  no  more.  He  opened  the  office 
door,  and  descended  the  stairs  at  a  good  pace,  pre- 
ferring to  seem  impolite  rather  than  endure  another 
word  on  that  subject. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PLUNGED    INTO    POVERTY. 

RELIEVED  for  the  time  of  the  large  bill,  Gray  ar- 
angedfor  the  departure  of  his  family.  It  was  a  sol- 
emn party  that  took  the  steamer  at  Southampton, 
<*ith  Gladys  in  deep  black,  Colonel  Newcombe  under 
Hie  guidance  of  an  attendant,  and  the  body  of  Mrs. 
Hewcombe  in  a  leaden  casket  on  board.  The  only 
o^e  that  showed  the  least  enjoyment  of  the  trip  was 
Elby  Marianne,  whose  laugh  broke  the  stillness  of 
hrr  mother's  stateroom  many  times  during  the  voy- 
age. Gray  devoted  much  of  his  leisure  to  his  father- 
in-law,  who  proved  very  tractable,  though  he  inquired 
every  few  minutes  for  his  dead  companion. 


PLUNGED    IlfTO   POVEBTY.  203 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Newcombe  ?"  he  would  say,  over 
and  over. 

"  We  are  going  to  her,"  was  the  invariable  reply. 

Once  he  said,  staring  at  the  sea  : 

"This  does  not  look  like  London." 

And  Gilbert  answered  : 

"  No,  we  are  on  our  way  to  Chicago,  to  your  old 
home,"  which  seemed  to  satisfy  the  inquirer  for  the 
time. 

He  did  not  ask  about  Gladys,  seeming  to  have  for- 
gotten her  entirely.  It  was  a  pitiable  sight.  He  ate 
the  food  that  was  brought  him,  and  slept  well.  It 
was  plain  that  he  might  live  a  long  while  yet. 

At  Chicago  the  Colonel  seemed  actually  to  improve. 
He  recognized  his  old  surroundings  and  went  from 
room  to  room  with  an  air  of  satisfaction.  He  could 
walk  very  well  with  a  cane,  and  soon  ceased  to  re- 
quire any  special  attention.  But  when  he  had  gone 
over  the  house  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  he  always  came 
back  with  the  old  inquiry  :  Where  was  his  wife  ?  and 
the  servants  were  told  to  make  the  same  reply,  on  all 
occasions  : 

"  She  has  gone  out  for  a  little  while." 

One  day  he  noticed  the  baby,  who  was  playing  on 
the  floor,  and  asked  whose  it  was.  Being  told,  he 
nodded  slowly,  as  if  he  recollected,  and  then  immedi- 
ately forgot  again. 

He  continued  to  recognize  Gilbert  and  to  like  to 
have  him  near,  but  even  his  name  had  to  be  repeated 
before  he  could  pronounce  it. 

Gray  now  took  the  first  occasion  that  he  thought 
wise  to  tell  his  wife  the  full  condition  of  her  affairs. 
There  was  the  house  they  were  living  in,  now  hers  by 


204  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

inheritance,  with  a  right  of  occupancy  on  the  part  of 
her  father.  There  was  the  encumbered  insurance. 
Nothing  more.  Taxes  had  been  paid,  and  the 
amount  of  available  cash  was  running  very  low. 

The  young  woman  was  shocked  at  the  statement. 
She  had  known  that  her  father  had  lost  money,  but 
she  supposed  him  still  a  wealthy  man.  She  shrank 
from  selling  the  residence,  saying  that  he  needed  it 
while  he  lived — that  it  would  be  a  cruelty,  when  all 
else  was  gone,  to  deprive  the  poor  old  man  of  his 
home.  Gilbert  agreed  with  her,  but  asked  what  could 
be  done.  It  was  an  expensive  house  to  live  in.  He 
had  been  unable  to  obtain  such  a  situation  as  she 
would  be  willing  to  have  him  accept.  Things  were 
coming  to  a  crisis. 

"  If  your  own  money  were  only  available  !"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh. 

"  But  it  is  not,"  he  answered.  "  There  will  be 
more  than  two  years  yet  before  I  shall  get  it,  if  ever." 

It  was  idiotic,  staying  in  a  house  like  that,  keeping 
three  servants,  living  at  the  rate  of  five  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year,  when  the  purse  was  empty.  Then,  when 
things  seemed  at  their  worst,  several  lawsuits  were 
put  upon  the  Colonel,  and  among  other  unpleasant 
things  his  interest  in  the  residence  they  occupied  was 
attached.  They  could  not  sell  it,  anyway,  while  thus 
encumbered,  and  they  might  as  well  live  in  it  as  to 
pay  rent  elsewhere.  They  reduced  the  number  of 
servants  by  one  and  tried  to  economize  at  the  table  ; 
but  neither  of  them  knew  how  to  accomplish  much 
in  that  direction,  and  the  ship  continued  to  drift 
toward  the  rocks. 

Mr.  Gray  persevered  without  avail  in  his  effort  to 


PLUNGED   INTO   POVERTY.  205 

get  something  to  do,  and  several  journeys  were  made 
to  other  cities  to  talk  with  people  who  advertised 
what  seemed  available  chances.  On  his  return  from 
one  of  these  he  found  at  his  house  no  less  a  person 
than  Mr.  Darius  Yates  ;  and  what  was  worse,  he 
found  him  talking  with  his  wife,  whose  eyes  were 
red  with  weeping,  and  who  showed  much  agitation 
when  her  husband  entered. 

It  turned  out  that  Yates,  being  in  the  country  on 
other  business,  had  come  to  say  that  his  money 
would  now  be  welcome,  as  he  had  been  making  in- 
vestments which  called  for  all  the  cash  he  could 
raise.  It  was  this  announcement,  made  in  a  mo- 
ment of  thoughtlessness  to  Mrs.  Gray,  that  had 
caused  her  outburst  of  grief. 

"  You've  come  at  a  poor  time,"  said  Gray,  thinking 
he  might  as  well  go  on  before  his  wife,  now  that  she 
had  heard  the  worst.  "We're  all  tied  up.  Things 
have  gone  from  bad  to  worse.  Wait  till  I  get  pos- 
session of  my  estate,  and  I'll  pay  you,  with  twenty 
per  cent,  added,  if  you  want  it.  But  now,  there's 
noihing  to  be  had,  for  you  or  any  one." 

Mr.  Yates  did  not  appear  satisfied. 

"  I  want  the  money,"  he  said,  doggedly.  "  Con- 
sidering what  it  is  for,  I've  waited  long  enough." 

Pale  with  rage  at  the  allusion,  Gray  threw  open  the 
door  that  led  to  the  front  hall. 

"  Get  out  of  here  !"  he  said,  threateningly. 

The  manner  of  the  man  in  the  presence  of  his  wife 
was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"You  are  making  a  mistake,"  replied  Yates,  gut- 
turally.  "  See  that  you  don't  regret  it." 


206  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

With  this  sinister  insinuation  he  departed,  leaving 
the  husband  and  wife  alone. 

Gladys  was  sobbing  again — sobbing'  in  that  low 
key  that  indicates  hopelessness. 

"  D n  him  !"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  ought  to  have 

kicked  him  down  the  steps  !" 

"  Oh,  no  !  He  only  wanted  his  money.  What  do 
you  suppose  he  will  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  does.  He  won't  get  three 
thousand  dollars  out  of  me  till  I  have  it !" 

The  wife  looked  up,  all  of  a  shiver. 

"  You  must  find  it  for  him,  Gilbert,"  she  said,  de* 
spairingly. 

"Find  it?     Where?     Rolling  up  hill  ?" 

"  You  must  get  it.  He  is  capable  of  anything. 
We  can't  have  our — our  secret — get  out — now,  when 
we  have  lost  all  else.  The  world  thinks  me  an  hon> 
est  woman.  If  I  am  to  die,  let  them  think  so  when  I 
am  lowered  into  my  grave  !" 

He  wanted  the  bill  settled  as  much  as  she,  but  he 
asked  again,  how  was  it  to  be  done  ? 

"There  is  my  last  jewel,"  she  said,  taking  a  dia- 
mond from  her  finger.  "  Yes,  I  did  not  tell  you,  I 
sold  all  the  rest  to  pay  the  butcher  and  grocer.  It  is 
worth  five  hundred  dollars.  Sell  it,  sell  the  pictures, 
the  furniture,  my  dresses — everything — but  pay 
him  !" 

He  made  a  mental  inventory  of  the  effects  she 
classed  together,  and  decided  that  the  total  would 
fall  far  short  of  the  sum  required.  Things  did  not 
sell  for  what  they  cost,  he  told  her.  The  sacrifices 
she  was  willing  to  make  would  be  of  no  avail. 


PLUNGED   INTO   POVERTY.  207 

"  But  he  must  be  paid  !"  she  kept  repeating.  "  He 
must  be  paid  !" 

That  night  Gray  wrote  to  Mr.  Dibbs,  to  see  if  he 
would  lend  anything  more  on  the  insurance.  The 
reply  stated  that  he  could  not,  with  justice  to  himself, 
as  the  invalid,  having  lived  so  long  since  his  attack, 
might  develop  into  one  of  those  everlasting  old  men 
who  pass  into  the  nineties.  There  was  a  vein  of  dis- 
couragement in  the  letter  that  could  not  be  sup- 
pressed. At  the  same  time  the  lawyer  reminded  Mr. 
Gray,  that  there  was  a  source  from  which  he  could 
draw  at  any  time — not  that  he  wished  to  excite  his 
anger  again  by  mentioning  it.  If  he  would  sign  a 
note  payable  whenever  he  came  into  the  Blair  estate, 
he  could  have  three  thousand  dollars,  or  ten  thousand 
dollars,  as  soon  as  the  mail  could  take  it  to  him. 

All  the  mulishness  in  the  young  man's  nature  came 
to  the  surface  as  he  read  this  so  often  renewed  propo- 
sition. He  would  let  Yates  expose  him  to  the  whole 
world — he  would  see  his  wife  starve  to  death — before 
he  would  touch  that  money  till  he  knew  it  was  right- 
fully his.  This  he  swore  to  himself,  in  round  terms. 
Probably  he  would  have  relented  rather  than  have 
had  either  of  these  dire  contingencies  come  to  pass, 
had  not  another  opportunity  presented  itself. 

In  one  of  his  walks  about  town  he  came  face  to 
face  with  Joseph  Lancaster  !  Lancaster,  again  in 
Chicago  ! 

"  Half  a  minute,"  said  the  man,  as  Gray  tried  to 
pass  him.  "  Don't  cut  me  dead  like  that.  I'm  in  a 
position  to  be  of  use  to  you." 

Stunned  by  the  statement,  Gray  stood  still  in  the 
street. 


208  LOVE   GOME   ASTRAY. 

"  You're  short  of  money.  I'm  flush  with  it,"  said 
Lancaster,  shortly.  "  I'd  as  lief  lend  to  you  as  any 
one.  Can't  we  do  a  little  business  ?" 

There  was  no  time  to  wonder  how  this  meteoric 
personage  had  become  again  a  lender  of  money. 
There  was  no  use  in  remembering  that  unpleasant 
things  had  happened  between  them.  He  wus  a 
metaphorical  straw,  and  Gray  grasped  at  him. 

"  I  want  five  thousand  dollars,"  lie  said,  thinking 
it  best  to  get  enough  to  tide  him  over  a  few  weeks  in 
advance,  if  possible. 

"  On  what  security  ?" 

"On  my  unindorsed  note.  There's  nothing  else 
to  give  just  now,  but  it'll  be  paid.  I  want  it  for  a 
year." 

Mr.  Lancaster  reflected. 

"  Pretty  risky,"  he  said,  "  but  I'll  go  you.  When 
do  you  want  it  ?" 

"  When  ?"  echoed  Gray.     "  I  want  it  now." 

"  Now  it  is,  then,"  said  the  newly  reinstated 
broker,  "and  as  the  only  office  I  have  is  the  curb- 
stone, we'll  step  into  a  hotel  and  fix  it  there." 

In  twenty  minutes  the  money  was  in  Gray's  hands, 
and  a  note,  witnessed  by  the  hotel  clerk,  was  in 
Lancaster's.  Without  making  further  talk,  the  latter 
excused  himself,  and  disappeared  as  quietly  as  he 
had  come  upon  the  scene. 

It  was  more  like  a  dream  than  a  real  transaction, 
but  the  money  was  certainly  there  as  tangible  evi- 
dence that  the  transaction  had  occurred. 

Gray  did  not  even  go  home  until  he  had  sought 
Darius  Yates  and  exchanged  the  sum  due  him  for  a 
receipted  bill. 


BLUNGED  INTO  POVEETT.  209 

"  WriU  all  demands  in  full  to  date,'  "  said  Gilbert, 
standing  over  him.  "  Now,  let  this  be  the  last  time 
I  ever  hear  from  you,  on  any  subject  whatever,"  he 
added,  putting  the  receipt  in  his  pocket. 

The  solicitor  rose  and  put  his  hands  coolly  behind 
him. 

"  Pooh  .'*•  he  answered,  sneeringly.  "  You  play  a 
very  silly  ^ame,  considering  the  hand  you  hold." 

"  It  is  as  good  as  yours  !"  was  the  hot  rejoinder. 
"  If  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  annoy  me,  I  have  it 
in  mine  to  put  you  in  jail  !" 

"  That  is  a  very  foolish  statement,"  said  Mr.  Yates, 
"and  nov.  borne  out  by  the  least  shred  of  fact.  1 
don't  do  «ny  business  in  such  a  slipshod  way.  Now, 
I'm  not  going  to  predict  anything,  my  rash  young 
man,  but  watch  and  see  how  this  comes  out.  You 
have  insulted  me  twice.  I  shall  hardly  allow  you  to 
do  it  again." 

There  was  so  little  to  be  gained  by  a  discussion  in 
this  strain  that  Gray  said  the  solicitor  could  go  to  the 
devil,  so  long  as  he  kept  out  of  his  way,  and  with 
this  remark  left  the  hotel  and  went  home  to  show  the 
receipted  bill  to  Gladys. 

He  did  not  tell  her  of  whom  he  had  borrowed  the 
money,  or  she  might  not  have  smiled  quite  so 
brightly  when  she  heard  the  news. 


210  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

MR.    JULIUS  MARGRAVE. 

IT  is  an  old  proverb  that  when  a  ball  is  going 
down  hill  every  one  is  willing  to  give  it  a  kick. 
What  was  left  of  the  Newcombe  estate  was  now  so 
tied  up  that  nothing  could  be  got  out  of  it.  The 
small  sum  that  Mr.  Gray  had  of  Lancaster's  loan, 
after  paying  Yates'  bill  with  interest,  went  rapidly. 
It  was  impossible  to  keep  up  a  decent  standard  of 
Mving.  The  servants  were  dismissed,  all  but  one,  who 
refused  to  go  whether  her  wages  was  paid  or  not,  so 
attached  was  she  to  the  family  of  her  mistress.  The 
fires  were  reduced  to  that  in  the  kitchen  stove  and 
an  open  grate  in  one  of  the  sitting-rooms.  The  hus- 
band obtained  work  in  a  bank  at  a  nominal  salary 
and  suffered  the  pangs  of  death  as  he  saw  the  state 
to  which  Gladys  and  her  old  father  were  reduced. 
There  was  but  one  hope.  If  they  could  live  till  the 
end  of  Mr.  Blair's  five  years — and  if  the  lost  heir  did 
not  turn  up — plenty  would  again  shine  upon  them. 

For  Mrs.  Gray  these  days  were  not  wholly  without 
happiness.  Whatever  else  had  been  lost  to  her,  she 
had  still,  the  presence  of  her  husband.  She  made  not 
the  least  complaint,  but  met  him  with  a  bright  face 
and  put  the  best  side  of  affairs  before  his  weary  eyes. 
It  would  all  end  before  long,  she  was  sure  of  it. 
In  the  meantime  they  had  enough  to  eat,  and  the  re- 
ceiver appointed  by  the  court  assured  them  they 
would  not  be  ordered  out  of  the  house.  It  was  a 


ME.    JULIUS    MABGBAVE.  211 

dismal  kind  of  comfort,  but  if  this  girl,  brought  up 
in  affluence,  could  bear  it,  Gilbert  thought  he  ought 
to  try. 

Colonel  Newcombe  still  survived,  with  little  ap- 
parent change- in  his  condition.  He  asked  the  old 
round  of  questions,  and  seemed  contented  with  the 
same  answers.  Baby  Marianne  was  growing  to  be  a 
big  child,  and  her  health  was  perfect.  She  never 
knew  that  there  had  been  any  trouble  from  the  loss  of 
money.  She  played  with  her  dolls,  and  ate  her 
bread  and  milk,  singing  till  her  voice  echoed  through 
the  lonely  halls  of  the  old  house. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  for  which  Joseph  Lancas- 
ter had  loaned  his  five  thousand  dollars — a  year  in 
which  that  strange  individual  had  neither  been  seen 
nor  head  from — he  appeared  at  Mr.  Gray's  door  and 
inquired  if  it  would  be  convenient  to  let  him  have  the 
amount.  With  all  the  reasons  that  Gilbert  had  for 
disliking  the  man,  he  could  not  deny  that  he  was  this 
time  an  honest  creditor,  and  after  hesitating  a  mo- 
ment he  asked  him  into  the  parlor  and  told  him 
frankly  how  things  had  gone. 

"Well,  that's  not  encouraging,"  was  the  response, 
though  Lancaster's  manner  was  the  reverse  of  down- 
hearted. "  The  fact  is,  that  cash  would  come  in 
mighty  handy  with  me  just  now.  I'm  in  one  of  my 
occasional  states  of  dead-broke-edness."  He  laughed 
as  he  coined  the  word.  "  Pretty  good  house  you're 
living  in,"  he  added  looking  around  him. 

At  this  Gray  felt  constrained  to  explain  the  state 
of  affairs  at  some  length.  He  told  how  the  estate 
was  encumbered  ;  how  even  the  furniture  belonged 
to  the  creditors  of  Colonel  Newcombe,  and  had  mora 


212  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

attachments  on  it  than  it  would  bring.  He  was 
barely  existing  on  the  small  salary  he  had  been  per- 
mitted to  earn. 

"  I  say  !"  cried  Lancaster,  interrupting  him.  "  That 
sounds  pretty  tough.  But  look  at  me  :  With  a  ma- 
tured note  for  five  thousand  dollars  and  a  year's  in- 
terest in  my  pocket,  I  actually  haven't  enough  ready 
cash  to  buy  a  place  to  sleep  in  to-night.  You  think 
me  a  hard  customer,  don't  you  ?  Well,  in  some  ways 
perhaps  I  am.  I  know  what  you've  seen  of  me 
hasn't  been  in  my  favor.  I  acted  queer  about  that 
money  you  let  me  have  in  Venice,  I'm  not  going  to 
deny  it ;  but  I  had  a  lot  of  things  on  my  mind.  And 
when  you  came  up  to  me  that  first  time  in  Hyde 
Park  I  was  in  a  deuce  of  a  state — between  the  horns 
of  a  dilemma,  as  they  say,  and  I  couldn't  have 
treated  the  Prince  of  Wales  decent.  Then  there  was 
the  matter  of  the  horses,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  was 
accidental.  I  thought  you  would  get  out  of  the  wa> 
before  I  reached  you.  And  at  Amsterdam  I  suppose 
you  got  the  idea  I  meant  to  annoy  you,  but  I  didn't. 
I  only  wanted  that  money,  and  I  had  to  have  it  from 
somewhere.  I  paid  it  to  you  again,  didn't  I,  with  a 
handsome  pile  to  boot,  that  went  up  in  the  water- 
spout. And  the  last  time  I  got  a  few  shekels  I 
brought  it  back  the  next  day,  strictly  according  to 
promise.  Now  comes  this  loan.  When  I  let  you 
have  it  I  was  lined  with  the  stuff  ;  and  to-day  it's  either 
to  pawn  my  vest  or  sleep  on  the  pavement,  and  the 
nights  are  rather  too  chilly  for  that." 

Mr.  Lancaster  laughed  again,  as  if  his  situation 
was  the  most  amusing  one  of  which  he  could  co»' 
ceive. 


MR.   JULIUS    MABGBAVE.  213 

"I  can  let  you  have  a  little,"  replied  Gray  with  a 
blush,  as  he  drew  out  his  slender  purse.  "And  you 
will  get  the  whole  of  it  if  you  wait  a  year  or  so 
longer.  Will — will  five  dollars  be  of  any  use  ?"  he 
asked,  fiery  red  as  he  thought  of  the  difference  be- 
tween that  sum  and  the  one  he  had  borrowed. 

"  Five  dollars  !"  exclaimed  Lancaster.  "  Why,  it's 
a  fortune.  Could  you  make  it  ten  ?  Thank  you,  I 
must  be  going,"  he  added,  as  if  haste  was  now  the 
most  important  thing.  "  I've  just  remembered  a 
pressing  engagement  that  I  came  near  missing." 

Hardly  stopping  long  enough  to  say  good-evening, 
the  man  was  gone,  and  Mr.  Gray  saw  him  spring 
jauntily  upon  a  rapidly  moving  car  going  toward  the 
centre  of  the  city. 

In  the  morning,  before  Gilbert  left  the  house,  Lan- 
caster was  back  again.  He  looked  sleepless  and 
haggard,  and  was  prepared  with  a  rambling  story  to 
the  effect  that  he  had  been  met  by  footpads  and  re- 
lieved of  the  sum  Mr.  Gray  was  so  kind  as  to  lend 
him.  He  was  very  tired  and  wanted  above  all  things 
a  chance  to  rest.  In  that  big  house  was  there  not 
some  room,  no  matter  how  high  up  or  how  poorly 
furnished,  that  he  could  occupy  till  noon  ? 

Shrinking  at  first  from  the  suggestion,  Gray  came 
at  last  to  agree  to  it.  One  reason  was  that  he  had 
no  time  for  a  refusal,  the  bank  being  most  particular 
as  to  the  moment  its  employe's  arrived.  He  called 
the  servant  and  bade  her  show  the  gentleman  to  a 
chamber  on  the  second  floor,  at  the  same  time  whis- 
pering that  she  must  on  no  account  let  Mrs.  Gray 
know  what  she  had  done.  Then  he  hastened  away 


214  LOVE   GONE    ASTEAT. 

to  the  scene  of  his  labors,  not  at  all  pleased  with  the 
situation. 

But  it  came  to  pass  that  Joseph  Lancaster  secured 
a  regular  tenancy  of  that  chamber.  Like  the  camel 
of  Arab  fable,  he  put  first  his  ears,  then  his  head,  and 
finally  his  whole  body  into  the  tent.  It  remained  to 
be  seen  whether,  in  imitation  of  the  ship  of  the  desert, 
he  would  kick  the  master  out. 

On  the  night  of  his  arrival,  Mr.  Gray  found  that 
the  Englishman  had  not  yet  taken  his  departure. 
He  had  been  out  part  of  the  afternoon,  the  servant 
said,  but  had  returned.  While  the  family  were  at 
dinner  he  went  out  again,  and  did  not  come  back 
until  Gray  had  gone  to  the  bank  the  next  morning. 
The  servant  did  not  feel  authorized  to  refuse  him 
entrance,  in  the  absence  of  instructions,  and  he  slept 
away  the  second  day  on  the  bed  he  had  previously 
occupied.  The  third  day  was  Sunday,  and  when  he 
came  in,  after  spending  the  entire  night  out  of  the 
house,  Gray  asked  for  an  explanation. 

This  was  made  with  tact.  Business  of  great  im- 
portance had  detained  him,  and  he  would  be  very 
glad,  if  Gray  did  not  object,  to  use  the  room  for  the 
few  days  he  intended  to  remain  in  the  city.  Every 
moment  he  expected  a  telegram  summoning  him 
away,  and  providing  him  with  the  necessary  funds  to 

g°- 

At  the  end  of  a  week  he  was  still  there,  and  hav- 
ing now  obtained  a  key  from  the  servant,  was  quite 
at  home.  As  he  used  a  side  entrance  which  had  been 
closed  for  some  time,  he  disturbed  no  one.  The 
spring  days  were  rather  chilly,  and  he  sent  in  wood 
and  coal  and  built  himself  a  fire.  It  would  certainly 


MB.    JULIUS   MARGRAVE.  215 

hare  been  ungracious  to  disturb  a  lodger  who  con- 
ducted himself  with  such  propriety,  especially  when 
he  was  a  creditor  of  the  other  occupant  of  the  man- 
sion to  such  a  large  extent. 

But  the  week  passed,  and  a  month,  and  three 
months,  and  still  Lancaster  did  not  go.  His  stories 
varied  from  time  to  time,  and  yet  hung  together  with 
remarkable  consistency.  He  had  now  money  in  his 
pocket,  for  he  insisted  upon  repaying  the  ten  dollars 
he  had  borrowed,  and  even  offered  to  loan  his  bene- 
factor a  few  hundred  if  he  wanted  it.  He  almost  in- 
sisted upon  a  price  being  put  upon  the  rent  of  the 
room,  which  he  professed  to  like  immensely,  and 
which  he  said  he  would  not  exchange  for  the  best  suite 
in  Potter  Palmer's  hotel.  When  this  was  refused  he 
said  he  should  make  a  handsome  allowance  for  it  in 
the  interest  on  his  note,  whenever  that  was  paid. 
He  still  kept  the  most  unseasonable  hours,  spending 
a  good  part  of  each  day  in  bed  and  most  of  his 
nights  abroad  ;  but  as  everything  about  him  was 
peculiar,  this  did  not  particularly  astonish  his  new 
landlord. 

Sometimes  he  was  gone  for  days,  without  giving 
the  slightest  notice  of  his  intentions.  When  he  re- 
turned it  might  be  that  his  first  act  was  to  request 
the  loan  of  enough  to  purchase  a  breakfast  ;  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  came  more  than  once  with  his 
pockets  loaded  with  wealth,  certainly  enough  to  flash 
a  great  roll  of  bank  bills  in  the  face  of  the  servant 
who  attended  to  his  room,  and  to  present  that  estima- 
ble lady  with  not  less  than  twenty  dollars  at  a  time. 
When  in  this  condition  ne  always  managed  to  meet 
Mr.  Gray  and  renew  his  proposals  to  pay  rent,  or  to 


216  LOVE   GONE    A8TBA.Y. 

lend  him  a  thousand  or  so,  whichever  he  preferred. 
Gilbert  declined  all  of  these  offers,  however,  and  said 
as  little  to  his  strange  acquaintance  as  possible. 

Gladys  naturally  learned  that  Lancaster  was  in  the 
house  after  awhile,  and  asked  anxiously  for  an  explan- 
ation. She  remembered  his  face,  she  said,  and  did 
not  like  the  memories  it  recalled.  Gilbert  told  her 
as  much  as  he  chose  of  what  had  passed,  referring  to 
the  money  loaned  by  Godkin  &  Lancaster  during  the 
great  wheat  deals,  and  not  in  any  way  to  the  more 
recent  transaction.  While  her  father  had  had  forty 
thousand  dollars  out  of  this  man  and  his  partner,  it 
would  not  do  to  turn  him  out  of  doors,  he  said.  And 
she  agreed  to  this,  doubtfully  but  in  silence,  as  she 
agreed  to  everything  her  husband  thought  wisest. 

Another  year  passed  in  much  the  same  way. 
Gray's  nose  was  at  the  grindstone.  His  house  was 
supplied  with  nothing  but  the  merest  necessities. 
And  then  two  events  happened  that  certainly  should 
not  have  come  in  conjunction.  The  bank  decided  to 
economize  by  dispensing  with  his  services  ;  that  was 
one  thing.  The  other  was  that  Mrs.  Gray  became  a 
mother  for  the  second  time. 

There  seems  to  be  a  fatality  in  nature  that  sends 
children  into  this  world  in  an  exactly  inverse  ratio  to 
the  preparations  for  receiving  them.  Let  a  laboring 
man  fall  and  break  a  limb,  let  his  three  oldest  chil- 
dren be  taken  down  with  scarlet  fever,  and  his 
mother-in-law  sprain  her  right  arm  by  slipping  on  the 
ice — and  you  may  set  it  down  without  the  least  dan- 
ger of  error  that  his  wife  will  be  confined  within  ten 
days.  A  prophet  could  have  foretold  that  Mrs.  Gray 
would  add  one,  or  more,  to  the  number  of  her  family, 


HE.   JTJUUS  MARGRAVE.  217 

as  soon  as  he  knew  that  the  bank  had  discharged  her 
husband. 

But,  in  his  deep  trouble,  Gilbert  welcomed  the 
little  stranger  with  all  his  heart.  At  last  he  had  a 
child  that  was  really  his  own  !  And  he  said  it  with- 
out any  disloyalty  to  little  Marianne,  who  still  had 
from  him  all  a  true  father's  care  and  love.  There 
was  a  difference,  though,  between  the  other  child 
and  this  tiny  boy  that  he  could  not  deny.  Nature 
cried  out  to  him  that  the  bone  of  his  bone  and 
flesh  of  his  flesh  must  hold  a  nearer  place  in  his  af- 
fections than  one  who  could  not  claim — though  she 
might  never  know  it — that  tender  relation. 

It  costs  money  to  be  born — in  Chicago,  in  the 
Nineteenth  Century,  as  Gray  soon  found.  There 
were  fifty  things  needed — things  that  must  be  had  if 
the  mother  and  infant  were  to  live  in  comfort.  A 
list  of  them  was  made  out  and  put  into  the  hands  of 
the  young  father.  He  stared  dt  it,  and  turned  white. 
His  purse  could  stand  no  such  drain. 

After  a  brief  interview  with  Gladys,  he  came  out 
of  her  room  with  his  soul  on  fire.  Money  he  must 
have,  whatever  way  it  was  got.  He  took  a  pen  and 
wrote  a  telegram  to  Israel  Dibbs  : 

"  Send  me  at  least  a  thousand  dollars  immediately, 
and  charge  it  to  my  interest  in  the  Blair  estate  ac- 
cording to  your  former  proposals.  I  cannot  do  with- 
out it" 

He  had  given  his  conscience  the  severest  wrench  it 
had  ever  received,  but  the  occasion  called  too  loudly 
to  be  refused.  He  sent  for  this  money  exactly  as  he 


218  LOVE   GONE   ASTEAT. 

would  have  broken  the  window  of  a  baker  if  his  dear 
ones  had  actually  been  starving.  He  did  not  for  a 
moment  try  to  persuade  himself  that  it  was  right. 

In  two  days  a  check  arrived,  with  a  letter  from  the 
lawyer  congratulating  him  on  his  accession  of  com- 
mon sense.  There  were  now  but  six  months  remain- 
ing of  the  five  years,  he  said,  and  the  appearance  of 
Julius  Margrave  was  practically  impossile.  He 
hoped  Gray  would  send  for  all  he  needed,  and  take 
what  comfort  he  could  during  the  interim. 

The  letter  was  read  with  a  set  face,  and  thrown 
into  the  grate.  The  check  was  the  main  thing. 
Gilbert  could  have  kissed  it,  as  he  realized  what  it 
meant  to  Gladys  and  the  boy. 

Lancaster  met  him  about  that  time,  and  said  a  few 
hundred  was  at  his  service,  whenever  he  liked.  He 
referred  to  the  advent  of  the  new  baby,  and  said  he 
had  heard  such  things  were  very  expensive.  The 
offer  was  refused,  now  that  another  source  had  been 
found,  though  it  would  otherwise  have  been 
accepted,  without  doubt.  And  it  did  not  surprise 
the  husband  to  have  this  man  send  him  a  note,  a 
week  later,  saying  that  fifty  dollars  would  be  of  the 
utmost  value  to  him  ;  a  sum,  let  it  be  recorded,  that 
was  sent  to  his  room  without  an  instant's  delay. 

Having  broken  the  ice,  Gilbert  did  not  care  how 
deeply  he  waded  in  the  stream.  As  Gladys  recovered 
he  spent  his  money  with  a  lavish  hand,  sending  to 
Dibbs  again  and  again  for  checks  which  were  for- 
warded as  fast  as  called  for.  He  re-engaged  the  old 
number  of  servants  ;  spread  the  table  bountifully 
as  of  yore,  opened  the  whole  house,  with  the 
exception  of  the  part  that  Lancaster — to  Gray's  re- 


MR.    JULIUS   MARGRAVE.  219 

gret — continued  to  occupy.  Every  dey  a  pair  of 
horses  and  a  liveried  coachman — from  a  stable — came 
to  take  the  mother  and  child  to  drive.  The  neigh- 
bors saw  with  wonder  that  a  new  mine  had  been 
tapped  and  that  the  family  was  coming  out  in  re- 
markable form  after  its  years  of  retirement. 

A  feeling  of  exultation  filled  the  breast  of  the 
young  man  as  these  changes  took  place.  He  forgot 
the  fault  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  and  saw  only 
the  bright  countenance  of  his  happy  wife  as  she  re- 
sumed the  life  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed. 
He  thought  what  a  fool  he  had  been  to  wait  so  long 
for  a  phantom  that  had  no  existence.  His  fortune 
was  coming  to  him  so  soon,  now,  and  he  might  have 
enjoyed  its  benefits  just  as  well  as  to  take  that 
awful  dip  into  pauperdom. 

A  sight  of  Mr.  Darius  Yates  in  the  streets  of  Chi- 
cago  was  the  first  thing  that  disturbed  his  new  se- 
renity. He  wondered  what  the  solicitor  could  be  do- 
ing again  in  that  part  of  the  world.  Mr.  Yates  did 
not  see  Gray,  or  if  he  did,  gave  no  sign  of  the  fact. 
It  was  quite  as  well.  They  could  not  meet  with 
mutual  goodwill,  and  it  was  best  they  escaped  a  col- 
lision. Yates  had  been  nasty  in  relation  to  that  bill 
cf  his.  Gray  wanted  to  forget  that  such  an  individ- 
ual existed. 

But  a  few  evenings  later  there  came  a  greater 
shock.  As  Gray  was  sitting  in  his  library,  the  butler 
announced  himself  with  an  envelope  in  his  hand. 

"  A  messenger  is  at  the  door,  sir,"  he  said.  "  who 
insists  that  this  gentleman  lives  here.  I've  told  him 
repeatedly  that  he  is  mistaken,  but  he  says  he  has 
seen  him  come  in  of  ten  and  that  lie  knows  him  well." 


220  LOVE   GONE    A6TEAT. 

Gilbert  Gray  took  the  envelope  in  his  hand  and  he 
thought  the  very  blood  had  frozen  in  his  veins  when 
he  read  the  name  thereorv  ; 

MR.  JULIUS  MARGRAVE. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"  IS    THIS   THE    LETTER  ?* 

*I  TOLD  him,"  repeated  the  butler,  as  Gilbert  re- 
mained  silent,  "  that  there  was  no  such  person  here, 
but  he  insists  that  he  has  seen  him  enter  the  house 
many  times.  He  says  he  knows  him  perfectly." 

The  man  who  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams  in  a 
jungle  and  awakes  to  see  the  gleaming  eyes  of  a  tiger, 
feels  as  Gilbert  Gray  felt  at  that  moment.  The  beast 
he  had  thought  dead  was  upon  him.  One  spring  and 
all  would  be  over. 

"  Tell  the  messenger  I  wish  to  see  him,"  he  said, 
in  a  hard  voice.  "  Show  him  into  this  room,  and 
when  you  have  done  so,  leave  us." 

The  butler,  who  had  been  but  a  short  time  in  Mr. 
Gray's  employ,  strode  on  his  errand  with  no  good 
grace.  He  thought  it  an  imputation  upon  himself  to 
receive  a  man  after  he  (the  butler)  had  practically 
dismissed  him. 

The  person  who  brought  the  letter  for  Mr. 
Margrave  seemed  a  very  ordinary  sort.  He  was 
evidently  unused  to  th*  interior  of  houses  of  this 


«*I8  THIS   THE    LETTER?"  221 

description,  for  he  stared  at  the  furniture  and  ceiling 
with  undisguised  interest  and  astonishment.  He  had 
to  be  asked  the  first  question  twice  before  he  re- 
covered enough  to  answer. 

"Who  gave  you  this  letter?"  said  Gray,  icily. 

"A  friend  of  Mr.  Margrave's,  sir ;  nobody  you'd 
know.  He's  sent  me  to  him  before,  sir,  but  I've  al- 
ways met  him  in  the  street  when  he  was  coming  out, 
sir." 

Gilbert  hesitated. 

"  Describe  Mr.  Margrave  to  me,"  he  said,  presently. 

At  this  the  man  hemmed  a  good  deal,  and  after 
declaring  over  and  over  that  he  "  couldn't  give  no 
description,"  proceeded  to  draw  a  word  picture  that 
was  easily  recognizable  as  that  of  Mr.  Joseph  Lan- 
caster. Not  expecting  anything  else,  Gray  showed 
no  surprise. 

"  Who  told  you — who  first  told  you  his  name  ?"  he 
asked  next.  "  Be  careful  now  and  mind  what  you're 
about." 

"  Why,"  said  the  man,  shifting  his  weight  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  "  I  don't  know  who  told  me.  He's 
been  around  here  for  a  year  or  more,  I  should  think, 
and  I  never  heard  him  called  anything  but  Margrave. 
I  don't  know  nothing  about  him,"  the  fellow  broke 
forth,  desperately.  "  I  ain't  no  private  detective,  to 
get  onto  people's  business.  I  waited  in  the  street  for 
more'n  an  hour,  and  then  I  thought  there  wouldn't 
be  no  harm  in  ringing  for  him.  If  you  are  the  man 
what  keeps  this  lodgin'-house,  you  know  him,  sir,  as 
well  as  me,  and  if  you'll  kindly  call  him  you'll  oblige 
me  very  much." 

Gray  winced  under  the  imputation  that  the  New- 


222  LOVE    GOXK    ASTUAY. 

combe  residence  was  a  lodging-house,  but  he  believed 
the  man  honest  in  what  he  said. 

"  There  is  no  such  person  here,"  he  answered.  "  I 
shall  therefore  keep  this  letter  till  Mr.  Margrave  calls 
for  it.  If  you  meet  him,  say  that  Mr.  Gray  will  give 
it  to  him  on  application.  Oh,  it  will  be  quite  safe," 
he  added,  as  the  man  started  to  open  his  mouth. 
"  You  needn't  worry  about  it  at  all." 

He  rose,  to  indicate  that  the  interview  was  ended, 
but  the  messenger  lingered. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  say  he  don't  live  here,"  he 
protested. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  see  anything," 
said  Gray.  He  rang  a  bell.  "Show  this  'gentle- 
man '  out,"  he  said  to  the  butler,  who  brightened  at 
the  order.  "  And  if  any  one  else  calls  to  see  me,  let 
me  know  at  once." 

Left  alone  he  sank  into  his  chair,  dizzily.  Lan- 
caster and  Margrave  !  Had  he  been  entertaining 
under  his  roof  all  this  time  the  heir  of  whose  exist- 
ence he  dreaded  to  hear? 

If  it  was  proven  that  they  were  the  same  person, 
there  was  but  one  thing  to  to  done — the  honest  thing. 
Nothing  else. 

Cost  what  it  might,  entail  whatever  sacrifices  it 
would,  the  rightful  claimant  to  Mr.  Blair's  estate 
should  have  it.  Gray  had  done  things  that  lowered 
him  in  his  own  sight,  but  he  had  never  swindled  any 
one  intentionally  out  of  a  penny.  He  would  not  be- 
gin now.  Starvation  might  come  to  him  and  his,  he 
could  not  tell,  there  was  nothing  else  in  prospect. 
But  in  this  plain  matter  of  duty  he  would  not  shrink. 

"  Mr.  Lancaster  to  see  you,  sir." 


"IS   THIS   THB   LETTEB?"  223 

It  was  the  butler  returning. 

"  Ask  him  to  come  in  here,"  said  Gray,  in  distinct 
tones.  The  emergency  found  him  ready. 

Neiling,  Lancaster,  Margrave — whatever  his  name 
was — paused  at  the  library  door,  in  evident  pertur- 
bation. His  eyes  wandered  anxiously  over  the  desks 
and  tables,  in  search  of  something. 

"  I  heard  there  was  a  letter  sent  here  for — for  a 
friend  of  mine,"  he  stammered,  acting  as  if  he  wanted 
to  get  away. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  "  and  sit  down,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  other  stood  doubtfully  for  a  moment  at  the 
threshold,  and  started  to  say  that  he  had  no  time  to 
spare,  but  finally  entered  and  took  a  seat  on  the  edge 
of  the  nearest  sofa,  not  at  all  at  his  ease,  appar- 
ently. 

"  Is  this  the  letter  ?"  asked  Gray,  holding  it  up  so 
that  the  superscription  could  be  read. 

It  struck  him  strangely  that  he  was  calmer  than 
his  companion. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  the  other  man,  reaching  out 
his  hand. 

"  A  minute.  This  letter  was  left  here  for  a  Mr. 
Margrave,  to  be  delivered  to  him,  and  to  no  one 
else." 

The  other  man  laughed,  oddly. 

"  It's  the  same  thing,  giving  it  to  me,"  he  said. 
"  We're  friends,  partners,  in  fact.  The  letter  is  for 
either  one  of  us.  You  see,"  he  explained,  brighten- 
ing as  he  went  along,  "  I  take  Margrave's  letters  and 
he  takes  mine." 


224  LOVE    GONE   A8TBAT. 

Again  the  hand  was  held  out,  but  the  letter  re- 
mained in  Mr.  Gray's  possession. 

"  The  man  this  letter  is  intended  for  rooms  in  this 
house,"  he  said,  impressively.  "  The  messenger  in- 
formed me  he  had  seen  him  enter  and  leave  here 
often.  Do  you  know  any  Mr.  Margrave  who  lives 
here  ?" 

"That  fellow  is  a  dunce,"  was  the  quick  reply. 
"  He's  got  us  mixed  up  with  each  other.  He  prob- 
ably thinks  I'm  Margrave,  and  " — he  paused  to 
make  the  story  complete — "that  Margrave  is  me." 

"  I  do  not  wonder^  for  according  to  his  description 
you  might  be  twin  brothers,"  said  Gray,  with  a  touch 
of  sarcasm.  "But  a  letter  is  an  important  matter, 
and  I  do  not  feel  justified  in  giving  this  to  any  per- 
son but  the  one  whose  name  is  on  the  envelope.  I 
might  get  myself  into  trouble.  If  you  will  see  Mr. 
Margrave,  and  ask  him  to  call,  he  can  have  it  at  once. 
I  shall  deliver  it  to  no  other  person." 

Lancaster  began  to  grow  angry,  as  this  course  was 
persisted  in.  He  declared  again  that  the  letter  was 
intended  for  himself,  that  he  knew  what  it  was  and 
wanted  it  immediately.  And  he  looked  as  if  he  in- 
tended to  have  it,  too,  before  he  left  the  house. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Margrave  for  another  and  very 
pressing  reason,"  said  Gray,  in  reply.  "  Perhaps  you 
can  tell  me  some  things  in  relation  to  him,  as  you 
know  him  so  well.  Was  his  father's  name  also 
Julius  ?  Was  his  mother's  name,  before  she  was 
married,  Cynthia  Blair?  Was " 

But  Lancaster  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
Staring  at  the  speaker. 

"  How  did^yw  know  all  that  ?"  he  exclaimed. 


"  IS  THIS  THE    LETTER  ?"  225 

"  How  did  you  know  it,  rather  ?"  was  the  reply. 
-  Why  not  tell  me  the  truth  ?  You  were  first  known 
to  me  as  '  William  Neiling,'  which  you  admitted  to 
be  a  nom  de  gucrrt.  Next  you  called  yourself '  Joseph 
Lancaster,'  another  pseudonym,  I  have  no  doubt. 
Why  not  admit,  without  further  prevarication,  that 
you  are  Julius  Margrave  ?" 

The  other  man  sat  down  again  and  studied  the  face 
before  him  intently. 

"Well,  I  am  Julius  Margrave,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"There  are  no  witnesses  to  the  admission,  and  if  it 
pleases  me  I  shall  deny  that  I  made  it  the  next  time 
I  am  asked.  I  am  Julius  Margrave,  my  father  bore 
the  same  name,  and  my  mother  was  Cynthia  Blair,  an, 
American  lady.  What  then  ?" 

Gray  grew  paler  when  his  fears  were  thus  sub- 
stantiated. He  took  a  case  from  his  pocket  and 
drew  forth  one  of  the  advertisements  that  had  been 
inserted  in  the  newspapers  for  nearly  five  years,  reg- 
ularly every  quarter. 

"Only  this,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  his  companion, 
who  read  it  slowly,  out  loud  : 

INFORMATION  WANTED— Of  Julius  Margrave,  son 
of  Julius  and  Cynthia  (n£s  Blair)  Margrave,  born  at  New 
York,  in  the  year  18 — ,  but  afterwards  emigrating  to  foreign 
parts.  Address  ISRAEL  DIBBS,  ESQ.,  No.  —  Broadway, 
New  York. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?"  he  asked,  looking  up 
suspiciously. 

"  It  means,"  said  Gray,  his  lips  twitching,  "  that 
you  are  the  heir  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars*, 
left  to  you  by  Abel  Blair,  your  mother's  brother." 


226  LOVE   GONE   A8TKAY. 

"  The  devil  !"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  And  at  this 
minute  I  haven't  the  price  of  a  ticket  to  New  York 
in  my  clothes.  Abel  Blair,  my  '  Uncle  Abel/  eh  ? 
Well,  this  is  a  startler  !  I  never  heard  anything  so 
strange  in  my  life." 

Then  Gilbert  told  him  the  terms  of  the  will,  exactly 
as  they  are  known  to  the  reader,  being  interrupted 
frequently  by  exclamations. 

"  And  if  I  hadn't  been  heard  of  for  three  months 
more,  you'd  have  had  everything  !"  cried  Margrave, 
when  the  story  was  finished.  "  By  Jove,  you  are  a 
white  one  !  Well,  don't  fret,  I'll  make  it  right. 
That  note  I've  got  of  yours  for  five  thousand  dollars 
shall  be  handed  back  the  minute  I  get  possession. 
Two  hundred  thousand — that's  forty  thousand 
pounds,  isn't  it  ?  Well,  I  should  think  that  would 
last  me  for  a  month  or  two,  with  due  economy  !" 

The  laugh  that  Gilbert  had  heard  in  former  days 
issued  again  from  Margrave's  lips  as  he  contemplated 
the  prospect. 

"  You've  been  falling  into  better  luck,  too,"  said 
the  man,  when  he  recovered  his  equanimity.  "  I've 
noticed  that  things  seemed  brighter  with  you 
lately." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  doleful  reply,  "  with  money  bor- 
rowed from  the  executor  of  Mr.  Blair's  will,  on 
account  of  my  expectations." 

And  he  proceeded  to  tell  the  story,  showing  that 
Mr.  Dibbs  had  advanced  him  something  like  four 
thousand  dollars,  which  he  would  now  never  be  able 
to  repay. 

Margrave  thought  this  was,  on  the  whole,  the 
funniest  thing  he  had  ever  heard,  and  laughed  over 


"IS   THIS   THE    LETTER  ?"  227 

it  till  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes.  The  joke  on  tho 
old  lawyer  was  simply,  he  remarked,  a  "  corker. ': 
He  was  only  sorry  that  Gray  had  not  borrowed 
twice  as  much,  for  he  might  just  as  well  have  had  it 
as  not.  When  he  saw  that  his  hilarity  was  not 
appreciated  he  sobered  down,  and  took  the  address 
of  Mr.  Dibbs,  with  the  statement  that  he  would  put 
himself  in  communication  with  him  that  very  day. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  appreciate  the  spirits  thig 
story  has  put  me  into,"  said  Margrave  when  he  was 
about  to  leave,  "  considering  it  knocks  you  out  of  the 
precise  amount  it  gives  me.  But  if  you'd  had  my 
experiences  you'd  have  got  used  to  anything.  You've 
seen  me  flush,  and  you've  seen  me  broke,  and  you 
know  I  never  whimpered.  That's  the  only  way  to 
take  things.  There's  silver  linings  to  all  the  clouds, 
and  to-morrow's  better  than  to-day  ever  dared  be. 
Your  luck  is  off  at  the  moment,  but  no  one  knows 
what's  just  around  the  corner.  You  may  light  on 
your  feet  yet." 

Gray  replied  soberly  that  it  was  a  very  different 
thing,  being  penniless  with  a  family  and  without  one. 
A  strange  look  came  into  the  face  of  Margrave  as 
this  thought  was  uttered,  and  he  answered  that  this 
did  put  a  different  face  on  the  matter.  However,  he 
added,  he  wasn't  quite  the  rascal  he  might  be  taken 
for,  and  he  would  not  forget  the  man  to  whose  hon- 
esty he  would  owe  his  fortune. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  lift,  somehow,  Gray,"  he  said,  with 
unusual  freedom  of  manner,  "if  it's  only  on  account 
of  those  helpless  ones  who've  got  to  look  to  you  for 
their  support.  If  I  don't  do  the  right  thing,  call  me 
a  duffer." 


228  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

He  was  so  anxious  to  be  gone  that  he  almost  for= 
got  to  take  the  letter  which  had  been  the  cause  of  his 
coming  into  the  house.  When  it  was  handed  to  him, 
however,  he  opened  it  where  he  stood,  and  uttered 
an  astonished  exclamation  as  he  perused  its  con- 
tents. 

The  worst  thing  now  before  the  young  husband 
was  to  reveal  the  extent  of  his  ill  fortune  to  his  wife. 
He  felt  a  doubt  whether  she  would  approve  of  the 
course  he  had  taken,  when  he  might  have  kept  back 
the  knowledge  and  retained  the  money  they  so  much 
needed.  But  Gladys  surprised  him  by  saying  that 
he  had  done  exactly  right,  and  that  in  spite  of  the 
disagreeable  consequences  that  must  ensue,  she 
thoroughly  approved  of  his  conduct. 

"I  could  never  have  respected  you  had  you  done 
otherwise,"  she  said,  kissing  his  sad  face.  "  We  have 
been  in  hard  straits,  but,  thank  God  !  we  have  not 
stooped  to  dishonesty,  and  we  never  must  What- 
ever happens,  I  can  look  into  my  husband's  eyes  and 
feel  proud  of  his  noble  life.  What  would  I  give  if 
he  could  look  back  with  equal  pride  on  mine  !" 

It  distressed  him  terribly  to  have  her  speak  like 
this,  and  with  his  arms  clasped  about  her  he  reiter- 
ated the  declaration  of  his  entire  love  and  confidence. 
But  for  the  things  which  she  regretted,  he  reminded 
her,  they  might  never  have  met,  and  certainly  were 
unlikely  to  have  married.  And  she  lay  against  his 
breast,  breathing  deeply,  happier  in  his  caresses  than 
any  queen. 

What  they  would  do  to  provide  for  the  helpless 
father  and  little  ones  neither  could  tell,  but  it  was 


**  IS   THIS   THE   LETTER  ?"  229 

something  to  know  that  the  perfect  union  of  their 
hearts  and  lives  did  not  depend  on  poverty  or  riches, 

Israel  Dibbs  made  his  appearance  within-  a  week. 
He  would  have  come  sooner,  but  for  a  case  he  was 
trying,  which  he  had  to  finish.  He  was  driven 
directly  to  Gray's  residence,  the  moment  he  reached 
Chicago,  and  sat  down  to  hear  hie  detailed  story  with 
a  very  interested  face. 

"  Well,  it  looks  all  right,  so  far,"  was  the  comment 
which  he  made  when  Gilbert  finished.  "  But  this 
man  will  have  to  prove  his  case  before  he  gets  any- 
thing out  of  me.  It's  well  enough  to  go  around  the 
world  bearing  all  the  names  one  pleases,  but  when 
it  comes  to  taking  possession  of  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars,  he's  got  to  do  something  besides  talk." 

Gilbert  smiled  faintly. 

"  I  feared  it  would  be  that  way,"  said  he.  "  I 
thought  if  you  lent  me  money  you  would  never 
believe  I  had  lost  the  chance  to  repay  it.  That  is 
why  I  refused  it  so  long." 

The  old  gentleman  sat  upright  in  his  chair. 

"  That  ain't  fair,"  he  answered,  sharply.  "  If  this 
estate  belongs  to  that  fellow  he'll  get  it,  every  penny, 
no  matter  how  I  come  out.  If  it  don't,  he  won't. 
The  money  I've  lent  you  don't  influence  me  a  par- 
ticle. But,  I  tell  you  again,  he's  got  to  prove  his 
identity.  This  Margrave  family  hasn't  been  heard 
of  till  now  for  a  pretty  long  time.  The  mother  died 
soon  after  the  boy  was  born,  and  the  father,  who 
was  of  a  roving  disposition,  went  off  somewhere  and 
stayed  out  of  the  country,  so  far  as  Mr.  Blair  ever 
knew.  If  this  is  a  son  of  his,  he's  got  to  bring  some- 
thing to  show  it.  I'll  give  him  the  property  when 


230  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

he  convinces  me  he's  entitled  to  it,  and  not  one 
d d  minute  quicker  !" 

He  seemed  like  the  Scotchman  who  was  willing  to 
be  convinced,  but  would  like  to  find  the  man  who 
Could  convince  him  ;  and  Mr.  Gray  still  feit  that  he 
was  not  in  the  right  mood  to  do  justice  to  the  new 
claimant. 

"  There's  another  matter,  though,  of  more  import- 
ance," pursued  Mr.  Dibbs.  "  While  this  doubt  re- 
mains I  can't  let  you  have  anything,  either.  That 
wouldn't  be  business-like,  would  it  ?  What  you've 
had  is  gone,  if  this  thing  turns  against  you.  By- 
the-way,  the  old  Colonel  still  holds  out,  I  see.  I'm 
going  to  get  stuck  on  that,  too,  if  he  lives  much 
longer,  with  the  premiums  I  have  to  pay  and  the 
interest  that's  creeping  up.  It's  awful  queer.  He 
must  have  a  constitution  like  a — like  a  rhinocerous." 

To  this  Mr.  Gray  made  answer  that  Colonel  New- 
combe  had  changed  little  during  the  past  year,  and 
yet  that  he  feared  he  was  slowly  fading  away. 

"Fear!"  echoed  the  lawyer.  "I  don't  see  why 
you  should  be  sorry.  He's  past  all  enjoyment  of 
life,  and  he  might  think  of  others  who've  banked  on 
him." 

"  He  is  my  wife's  father,"  replied  Gilbert,  impres- 
sively. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  he  is,"  admitted  Dibbs.  "  And 
she  wouldn't  want  him  to  die,  if  he  hadn't  an  ounce 
of  brain  left  nor  a  leg  to  stand  on.  If  he  was  my 
father,  and — and  there  was  forty  thousand  insurance 
on  him — I  wouldn't  care  to  see  him  in  that  fright- 
ful condition  any  longer  than  I  could  help.  I  should 


A   FAIR   PROPOSITION.  231 

ask  the — the  good  Lord — to  take  him  home — among 
— among  the  angels." 

And  evidently  feeling  that  there  was  a  piety  in  the 
remark  that  took  it  out  of  the  commonplace,  Mr. 
Dibbs  returned  to  the  other  subject. 

"This  Margrave,"  he  said,  "what  does  he  look 
like,  as  near  as  you  can  describe  him  ?" 

"  Mr.  Lancaster,"  interrupted  the  butler,  opening 
the  door. 

"  Tell  him  to  come  right  in,"  replied  Gray.  "  Now 
you  can  see  for  yourself,"  he  added,  rising. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A     FAIR     PROPOSITION. 

WHEN  informed  that  the  gentleman  closeted  with 
Mr.  Gray  was  none  other  than  the  executor  of  Abel 
Blair,  Mr.  Margrave  expressed  the  greatest  pleasure 
at  meeting  him.  A  pleasure,  be  it  said,  that  the 
lawyer  did  not  seem  to  wholly  share.  Proceeding 
to  business  without  the  least  delay,  Mr.  Dibbs  put 
the  claimant  through  a  most  searching  examination. 
He  made  him  recount  all  the  particulars  of  his  life, 
from  his  earliest  recollections — and  even,  using  what 
he  had  been  told,  from  a  point  anterior  to  them. 
And  Mr.  Dibbs  had  to  admit  that  the  man  stood  the 
ordeal  remarkably  well,  and  that  there  was  no  appar- 
ent flaw  in  his  statements. 

The  first  thing  he  remembered,  he  said,  was  living 


232  LOVE    GONK    ASTRAY. 

in  the  town  of  Salisbury,  New  South  Wales,  with  his 
father  and  a  slightly  older  brother,  their  wants  be- 
ing attended  to  by  a  servant  who  acted  as  cook  and 
housekeeper  combined.  The  brother  was  a  son  of  his 
father  by  a  previous  marriage,  and  was  named  Jonas. 
The  father,  who  was  of  a  roving  disposition,  came 
and  went  as  he  pleased,  sometimes  being  absent  from 
home  for  months  at  a  time.  The  boys  went  to  the 
schools  of  the  place,  and  when,  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen or  eighteen,  they  were  left  entire  orphans,  they 
took  what  little  money  was  theirs  and  went  to  Eng- 
land. Here  Julius  got  employment  in  the  office  of  a 
solicitor,  and  Jonas  worked  at  various  callings  until 
a  year  or  two  later,  when  he  disappeared,  and  had 
never  been  seen  since. 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  "solicitor,"  Mr.  Dibbs 
began  to  question  Margrave  as  to  his  knowledge  of 
law,  but  he  explained  his  lack  of  it  by  saying  that  he 
had  been  kept  at  copying  and  that  sort  of  thing  ; 
and  when  at  last  he  rebelled,  and  demanded  a  better 
opportunity  to  learn  something  of  value,  he  was  given 
his  discharge,  and  had  never  set  foot  afterwards  in 
an  establishment  of  the  kind.  From  that  time  he 
had  travelled  from  place  to  place,  perhaps  at  times 
engaging  in  things  not  entirely  to  his  credit,  as  he  sai/ 
he  might  as  well  admit,  without  going  into  particular 
It  was  not  necessary  to  give  a  detailed  account  of 
every  act  of  his  more  recent  life,  in  order  to  prove 
that  he  was  the  rightful  heir  to  Mr.  Blair's  property, 
as  the  son  of  that  gentleman's  sister  Cynthia. 

"I  will  show  you,  as  soon  as  it  arrives,"  he  added, 
"a  certificate  of  my  father's  death  and  of  my  gradu- 
ation from  the  elementary  schools  of  Salisbury,  for 


A   FAIR   PEOPO6ITIOK.  238 

which  I  have  sent  to  New  South  Wales.  I  have  for- 
warded a  photograph  of  myself,  and  asked  a  judge 
of  the  town,  who  remembers  me  well,  to  certify  that 
it  represents  my  features.  There  is  also  a  witness 
here  in  Chicago  whom  you  may  wish  to  see,  the  so- 
licitor for  whom  I  worked  in  London." 

Gilbert  Gray  half  rose  from  his  chair,  and  his  eyes 
opened  wide. 

"  The  solicitor,"  he  said,  nervously,  "  is  named 
Darius  Yates  ?" 

"Well,"  was  the  answer,  "I  will  make  it  simpler 
by  admitting  that  at  once.  Mr.  Gray  is  surprised 
that  Mr.  Yates,  whom  he  knows  and  who  has  spoken 
to  him  about  me,  apparently,  never  mentioned  that 
I  had  been  a  clerk  in  his  office.  Mr.  Yates'  reasons 
are  entirely  foreign  to  this  inquiry.  He  will  not  give 
them  to  you  if  you  ask  him  ;  but  such  evidence  as 
really  affects  my  case  I  know  he  will  give  with  pleas- 
ure,  for  I  have  communicated  with  him  very  recently 
on  the  subject." 

An  hour  more  of  cross-questioning  produced  no 
new  effects.  But  when  it  was  ended  Mr.  Dibbs  an- 
nounced that  he  should  leave  the  whole  matter  to  the 
courts. 

"  I  don't  express  the  least  opinion,"  he  said,  in  a 
jndicial  way.  "  I  have  an  important  trust  to  fulfill. 
If  the  judge  says  the  money  belongs  to  you,  sir,  I 
will  turn  it  over  as  ordered,  to  the  last  cent.  If  the 
decision  is  against  you,  it  goes  to  Mr.  Gray.  You 
must  see  an  attorney,  put  in  your  claim,  and  have  it 
adjudicated  in  the  usual  manner." 

Before  Margrave,  whose  face  had  darkened  at  this 
proposition,  could  reply,  Gilbert  spoke  : 


234  LOVE   GONE    ASTKAT. 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Mr.  Dibbs,  you  will 
understand  that  I  don't  ask  this.  If  Mr. — Mr.  Mar- 
grave brings  his  depositions  from  New  South  Wales, 
showing  him  to  be  the  son  of  Mrs.  Blair's  sister,  I 
don't  care  to  know  any  of  the  secrets  he  wishes 
buried.  Indeed,  you  will  meet  my  desires  best  by 
putting  him  to  the  least  trouble  possible." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,"  responded  Mr.  Dibbs, 
"  but  it's  not  the  best  way  for  me,  as  a  trustee.  If  I 
give  this  estate  to  the  wrong  man  I  shall  be  person- 
ally liable.  I  want  a  judge's  decision  to  back  me  up. 
No,  I  have  decided  that  it  must  go  to  the  court,  and 
nothing  can  make  me  change  my  mind." 

In  the  few  moments  that  elapsed,  Margrave  had 
managed  to  pull  himself  together,  and  the  cloud  on 
his  brow  gave  way  to  one  of  the  sunny  smiles  for 
which  he  was  at  times  noted. 

"To  the  court  let  us  go,  then,"  he  said,  brightly. 
"As  I  know  nothing  of  American  laws  I  can  only 
hope  it  won't  take  a  hundred  years  to  settle,  as  I 
would  like  to  use  a  little  of  the  money  before  I  die. 
The  meanest  thing  about  it,"  he  added,  indicating 
Gray  with  a  motion  of  his  hand,  "  is  that  in  getting 
what  belongs  to  me  I  must  displace  so  good  a  fellow 
as  this,  and  one,  besides,  who  stands  quite  as  much 
in  need  of  it." 

This  assertion  affected  Gilbert,  who  began  to 
think  Dibbs  a  very  stubborn  old  curmudgeon  to  put 
the  rightful  heir  to  so  much  trouble  over  a  point  that 
seemed  absolutely  valueless.  It  was  very  clear  that 
he  (Gray)  might  as  well  give  up  all  hopes,  and  he 
saw  no  benefit  to  be  derived  from  annoyances  of  the 
kind  contemplated  He  knew,  however,  that  the 


A    FAIR    PROPOSITION.  235 

statutes  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  were  not  more 
unalterable  than  the  mind  of  Israel  Dibbs,  and  he 
saw  that  worthy  depart  without  adding  another  word 
in  criticism  of  his  course. 

As  there  seemed  less  reason  than  ever  to  ask  Mar- 
grave to  vacate  his  room,  he  continued  to  live  under 
the  Newcombe  roof,  if  such  it  had  now  any  right  to 
be  called.  In  due  time  he  brought  to  Gilbert  a  de- 
position signed  by  several  prominent  citizens  of  New 
South  Wales,  as  well  as  by  the  photographer  who 
took  it,  that  a  picture  annexed  was  t.ie  portrait  of 
Julius  Margrave,  son  of  Julius  and  Cynthia  Mar- 
grave, deceased.  Besides  this  he  bore  a  deposition 
from  Darius  Yates,  that  the  said  Julius  had  been  in 
his  employ  for  nearly  three  years,  and  had  during 
that  time  been  known  by  no  other  name,  with  more 
matter  to  the  same  effect.  These  documents,  after 
being  inspected  by  Mr.  Gray,  were  placed  in  the 
hands  of  an  attorney,  and  all  parties  awaited  the 
calling  of  the  case  in  the  court  to  which  it  had  been 
assigned. 

Mr.  Dibbs  was  informed  of  the  nature  of  the  new 
proofs,  and  in  fact  served  with  copies  of  them,  but 
his  intention  to  fight  the  case  was  not  in  the  least  af- 
fected thereby.  He  wrote  to  Gray  that  the  affair 
was  out  of  his  hands  and  that  he  would  do  nothing 
more  about  it.  But,  during  the  summer  that  fol- 
lowed, he  did  do  something.  At  the  joint  request  of 
Julius  Margrave  and  Gilbert  Gray,  over  their  wit- 
nessed signatures,  he  released  the  Newcombe  resi- 
dence from  the  creditors  of  the  Colonel,  taking 
Gladys'  note  and  mortgage  for  the  amount  ad- 
vanced. This  he  could  safely  do,  whoever  the  Blair 


236  LOVE   GONE   A8TEAT. 

property  was  going  to,  for  the  mortgage  was  a  per* 
fectly  safe  investment,  and  the  proceeding  enabled 
the  Grays,  with  the  poor  old  man  who  was  slowly 
descending  to  the  tomb,  to  remain  a  little  longer  in 
their  home. 

Early  in  the  autumn  Colonel  Newcombe  succumbed 
to  a  second  shock  and  passed  away  without  regain- 
ing his  mind  in  the  least.  He  had,  in  effect,  been 
dead  for  three  years  already,  but  his  daughter  wept 
for  him  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  and  Gilbert,  who 
liked  him  immensely,  contributed  his  share  to  the 
mourning.  Mr.  Dibbs  came  to  town  as  soon  as  the 
funeral  was  over  and  proceeded  to  arrange  the  mat- 
ter of  life  insurance,  paying  over  the  balance  that 
remained  to  Mrs.  Gray,  who  accepted  it  dolefully  and 
handed  it  to  her  husband  without  a  word.  In  their 
present  condition  it  was  a  godsend,  for  there  were  the 
interest  and  taxes  on  the  house  to  be  met,  as  well  as 
other  expenses  that  had  been  postponed  as  long  as 
possible.  And  Gilbert  also  ordered  a  stone  for  the 
Colonel's  grave  that  was  perhaps  extravagant,  con- 
sidering the  dimness  of  the  future. 

The  way  the  case  dragged  in  the  court — the  case  of 
Margrave  vs.  Dibbs — did  not  surprise  any  one  used 
to  the  delays  of  the  law,  but  the  plaintiff  expressed 
his  dissatisfaction  in  no  gentle  terms  as  time  went  on. 
One  day  he  came  to  Gray  with  a  proposal. 

"  See  here,"  he  said,  "  this  thing  is  getting  unbear- 
able !  My  lawyer  says  Dibbs  can  fight  me  off  for 
three  years  more,  if  he  likes,  and  I'm  sure  he  will 
take  every  minute  allowed  him.  Now,  I  have  an 
idea,  and  I  want  to  see  what  you  think  of  it.  I'd 


A  FAHt  PROPOSITION.  23? 

rather  take  part  of  a  loaf  before  I  die  of  starvation 
than  a  whole  bakery  after  I'm  dead  and  buried." 

"  What  is  your  suggestion  ?"  asked  Gilbert,  curi- 
ously. 

"  It's  this,  in  brief  :  Supposing  I  withdraw  all 
claim  to  the  property?'* 

"  What!" 

"  Wait  a  second.  Of  course  that's  not  the  whole  of 
it.  Supposing  I  withdraw,  get  out,  quit  professing 
to  be  myself  and  let  you  take  the  estate  according  to 
my  uncle's  will.  Dibbs  wouldn't  fight  you.  He'd 
hand  you  over  the  whole  thing,  bag  and  baggage,  the 
next  morning,  wouldn't  he  ?" 

Mr.  Gray  stared  at  the  speaker  with  all  his  might. 

"  I  think  he  would,"  said  he,  "  but " 

"Don't  '  but  *  anything  for  another  minute,"  re- 
sponded Margrave.  "  Just  fix  your  mind  on  my  prop- 
osition. If  I  should  do  that  and  if  you  would  sign 
an  agreement  to  hand  me  over  three-quarters  of  what 
you  got,  I'd  be  better  off,  wouldn't  I,  than  to  hang 
around  here  till  I'm  an  octogenarian,  waiting  for  the 
courts  to  let  me  in  ?" 

The  idea  was  so  strange  that  it  staggered  Gray  at 
first. 

"  You'd  get  fifty  thousand  dollars,"  said  Margrave, 
trying  to  make  it  clearer.  "  I'd  get  the  rest.  Neither 
of  us  could  complain,  and,  by  George  !  I'll  do  it,  if 
you  say  so  !" 

Fifty  thousand  dollars  !  It  looked  like  a  mountain 
of  gold  to  the  young  man.  He  could  move  to  some 
quiet  home  in  the  country  and  live  with  his  dear 
ones  on  the  income  of  that  amount.  But,  on  the 


238  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

other  hand,  it  looked  dishonorable  to  take  so  great 
an  advantage  of  another's  necessities. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?"  cried  Margrave.  "  Is  it  a  bar- 
gain ?" 

"  I — I  would  do  it  at  once,"  stammered  Gray,  "  but 
I  don't  think  it  would  be  fair — to  you.  It  would  be 
almost  a  kind  of  blackmail,  to  accept  such  a  sum  for 
merely  helping  you  to  your  rights." 

"  That's  my  lookout,"  smiled  the  other.  "  I'm  sat- 
isfied, and  you  ought  to  consider  that  sufficient. 
You've  got  a  wife  and  family,  too  ;  you  mustn't  for- 
get them." 

Gray  found  himself  leaning  toward  an  acceptance 
of  the  proposal,  though  he  still  thought  the  share  to 
be  given  him  was  disproportionate.  Before  they 
separated  he  had  agreed  to  the  plan,  and  within  a 
week  documents  had  been  signed  by  which  it  could 
be  carried  out. 

The  relief  which  Gilbert  felt  as  he  contemplated 
the  near  approach  of  a  competency  for  Gladys  and 
the  children  carried  him  almost  to  the  skies  of  happi- 
ness. He  declared  to  himself  that  Margrave  was 
more  than  a  gentleman,  and  took  back  a  hundred 
times  a  day  all  the  ill-natured  things  he  had  ever  said 
or  thought  about  him. 

He  dared  not  tell  his  wife  of  the  comfortable  future 
that  was  dawning  on  the  horizon,  lest  some  slip 
should  dash  the  cup  from  their  lips.  He  waited  with 
a  fever  of  impatience  till  he  could  assure  her  beyond 
a  doubt  that  their  days  of  actual  penury  were  over. 

Israel  Dibbs  came  to  Chicago  and  had  a  talk  with 
Gray  when  he  was  apprised  of  the  new  state  of 
affairs. 


A   FAIK    PROPOSITION.  239 

"I  thought  he'd  draw  out,  before  he  let  it  go  to  a 
jury,"  he  remarked,  sarcastically.  "  How  much  did 
you  have  to  pay  ?  Of  course  you  gave  him  some- 
thing, and  I  think  that  was  the  safest  way  out  of  it, 
but  I  hope  it  wasn't  much." 

"Still  prejudiced  by  your  own  interests,"  replied 
Gray,  with  a  smile.  "  I  told  you  he'd  never  seem  an 
honest  man  in  your  eyes  while  you  had  a  personal 
claim  that  got  into  the  balance." 

Mr.  Dibbs   pooh-poohed   at   this,  declaring   it  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case.     He  said  the  latest  ac- 
tion of  Lancaster — he  refused  to  call  him  Margrave, 
— had  proved  how  little  confidence  he  had  in  winning 
a  verdict. 

"  We'll  have  the  whole  thing  settled  now  in  a 
month  or  two,"  he  said,  in  conclusion.  "  And,  my 
word  for  it,  you  have  escaped  one  of  the  prettiest 
attempts  at  swindling  that  ever  came  under  my 
observation." 

But  Gray  only  laughed,  knowing  what  a  "  set  " 
man  Mr.  Dibbs  was,  and  congratulated  himself  anew 
over  the  bargain  he  had  made. 

He  went  home  and  played  with  his  two  children — 
his,  both  of  them,  in  love,  at  least.  He  kissed  Gladys 
so  warmly  that  she  wondered  what  had  happened, 
and  looked  at  his  beaming  face  under  a  momentary 
apprehension  that  he  had  lost  his  wits. 

With  fifty  thousand  dollars  and  these  loved  ones, 
he  would  forget  he  had  ever  expected  to  be  richer. 

Ah  !  Who  can  be  richer  than  the  man  with  a  wife 
who  adores  him,  and  enough  to  keep  her  from  the 
icy  blasts  that  sweep  around  this  bleak  world. 


240  LOVE   GONE   ASTBAT. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  WOMEN   ARE   QUEER   THINGS." 

WlTH  the  difficulties  out  of  the  way,  in  the  mattef 
of  Abel  Blair's  estate,  one  would  have  thought  that 
the  only  thing  necessary  to  pass  it  over  to  Gilbert 
Gray  was  the  arrival  of  the  date  mentioned  in  the 
will.  But  legal  matters  are  notoriously  slow  in  com- 
ing to  a  head,  and  this  one  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  What  made  it  matter  less,  however,  was  that 
Mr.  Dibbs  had  again  opened  his  private  purse  and 
was  advancing  as  liberally  as  before  to  the  legatee. 
The  money  thus  obtained,  Gilbert  divided  pretty 
equally  with  Margrave,  who,  however,  fretted  over 
the  length  of  time  required  to  get  the  balance,  and 
declared  every  day  that  he  was  disgusted  with  the 
judges  and  lawyers,  from  one  end  of  the  case  to  the 
other. 

Margrave,  as  the  time  of  settlement  grew  nearer, 
made  various  excursions  to  points  out  of  the  city, 
sometimes  being  gone  a  fortnight  at  a  stretch.  He 
finally  gave  up  his  room  at  the  Grays.  Where  he 
went  Gilbert  had  no  knowledge,  and  the  matter  had 
little  interest  for  him.  He  meant  to  keep  his  word 
to  the  letter,  and  though  he  felt  very  grateful  for 
what  he  called  Margrave's  "generosity,"  he  was 
quite  willing  to  be  deprived  of  his  companionship, 
that  had  of  late  grown  rather  too  intimate  to  be 
wholly  agreeable. 

The  only  thing  that  annoyed  Gray  at  this  period, 


"WOMEN    AKE   QUEER   THINGS.**  24:1 

was  the  fact  that  Mr.  Yates  still  remained  in  the 
city  and  had  been  seen  by  him  several  times  in  the 
street.  He  realized  that  the  solicitor  had  no  good 
will  toward  him,  and  dreaded  lest  some  move  might 
be  made  on  his  side  of  a  disagreeable  nature.  But  as 
there  was  no  law  against  a  person's  living  in  any  part 
of  the  world  that  pleased  him,  he  did  not  see  what  he 
could  do  about  it,  as  long  as  he  could  trace  no  un- 
pleasant consequences  to  the  presence  of  this  man. 

The  exact  date  that  the  five  years  elapsed  from 
the  death  of  Mr.  Blair,  was  February  i^h.  Fully  a 
month  beyond  that  day  passed,  and  Mr.  Dibbs  still 
made  excuses.  Margrave,  who  never  visited  Gray 
now,  but  wrote  htm  frequent  letters,  intimated  his 
belief  that  "  the  old  cuss  "  had  stolen  part  of  the 
funds  and  was  liable  to  "  skip  to  Canada  "  with  the 
balance,  unless  somebody  had  an  eye  on  him.  Of 
course  Gilbert  laughed  at  this  notion,  for  lie  thought 
he  knew  Mr.  Dibbs  better  than  that.  And  yet  he 
wondered  as  much  as  his  new  friend  why  such  a  long 
time  was  necessary. 

One  morning  the  lawyer  came  to  Chicago  and 
sought  Mr.  Gray  at  his  residence.  He  had  some- 
thing of  importance  to  communicate  and  asked  his 
host  to  make  certain  that  they  were  not  disturbed. 

"  I  don't  want  anybody  coming  in  just  now,"  he 
said,  looking  warily  around  the  library,  "especially 
that  man." 

"What — Margrave  ?"  cried  Gilbert,  good-naturedly, 
after  giving  the  necessary  order.  "  I  haven't  set  eyes 
on  him  for  seven  or  eight  weeks." 

"  Haven't  you  ?"  was  the  reply.  "  You  don't  mean 
to  say  he's  cleared  out  I" 


242  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

"  No.  I  had  a  letter  from  him  yesterday.  Cleared 
out  !  He's  in  no  mood  for  clearing  out,  from  the 
tenor  of  his  note." 

Mr.  Dibbs  hemmed  softly  and  closed  his  eye- 
lids slightly. 

"  Have  you  got  that  note  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Certainly." 

"  Will  you  let  me  see  it  ?" 

Gilbert  could  not  help  laughing  again. 

"I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  please  you  to  read  it  in 
full,"  he  said,  "  but  I'll  show  you  the  date  and  the 
signature,  if  you  want.  You  seem  to  doubt  that  he's 
here  still.  There  you  are,  'Chicago,  March  2ist,' 
and  at  the  bottom,  *  Believe  me,  as  ever,  Your  Sincere 
Friend,  Julius  Margrave.'  What  will  you  have 
straighter  than  that  ?" 

The  lawyer  scanned  the  letter  eagerly. 

"Nothing,"  he  said  sharply.  "  If  you  will  cut  off 
those  lines  for  me — or  agree  to  keep  them  until  they 
are  wanted — I  shall  be  satisfied." 

"  I'll  keep  them,"  smiled  Gray.  "  I  don't  like  to 
mutilate  the  letters  of  my  friends.  I've  had  a  good 
many  from  him  during  the  past  few  months,  and  I've 
got  them  all." 

At  this  the  lawyer  rubbed  his  hands  softly 
together. 

"  All  right  so  far,"  he  responded.  "  Now,  for 
another  matter.  In  looking  over  the  papers  of 
Colonel  Newcombe  that  you  gave  me  with  the  insur- 
ance policies  I  have  made  one  or  two  discoveries. 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  they  are  ?" 

The  lawyer's  lips  shut  tightly  together  and  his 
eyes  dilated  strikingly.  His  manner  had  changed 


"  WOMEN   ABE    QUEER   THINGS."  243 

so  suddenly  that  the  younger  man  did  not  know 
what  to  think. 

"  Has  it  anything  to  do  with — with  this  affair  ?"  he 
asked,  beginning  to  tremble. 

"  Possibly.  Mr.  Gray,  I  am  an  attorney-at-law, 
and  a  secret  is  as  safe  in  my  hands  as  if  locked  in 
your  own  brain." 

A  secret !  There  was  but  one  secret  that  Gilbert 
Gray  cared  about.  Was  it  possible  that  one  could 
have  been  found  in  the  bundle  of  papers.  He  could 
not-  endure  the  suspense,  and  he  told  Mr.  Dibbs  to 
proceed. 

"  I  was  not  looking  for  this  secret,  mind  you  !" 
explained  the  lawer.  "  But  I  know  the  necessity  of 
examining  every  scrap  of  writing  that  a  dead  man 
leaves  before  deciding  that  it  is  of  no  value.  I  was 
examining  those  papers  of  Colonel  Newcombe's 
when  I  found  the  one  to  which  I  shall  first  refer 
you." 

Mr.  Gray  took  the  paper  that  was  handed  him,  and 
before  he  glanced  at  the  page  threw  a  searching 
glance  into  the  sharp  eyes  before  him.  Then  he 
read  as  follows  : 

"  Enclosed  you  will  find  the  complete  confession  of 
young  Margrave,  whose  name  your  daughter  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  give  you.  By  this  time  he  is  well  out  of  the 
country  and  I  am  sure  you  will  never  be  troubled  by  him 
again.  I  advanced  him  sufficient  for  expenses,  believing 
that  the  wisest  course,  but  he  is  thoroughly  frightened  and 
only  too  anxious  to  get  away.  I  am  still  confident  that 
the  best  move  will  be  a  marriage  with  Mr.  Gray,  if  I  can 


24:4:  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

bring  htm  to  agree  to  It,  and  I  think  I  can.  Will  try  to  see 
you  to-morrow. 

"  Yours,  etc., 

««  DARIUS  YATES." 

It  was  a  very  bitter  draught  that  had  to  be 
swallowed,  and  the  young  man  thought  it  would 
strangle  him  in  its  downward  course.  Bitter, 
because  it  reopened  the  horrible  chapter  he  had  tried 
so  hard  to  close.  Bitter,  because  his  secret  was 
exposed  to  this  man,  whose  contempt  he  could 
already  feel  piercing  through  his  vitals.  Bitter 
because — because  

He  stopped  and  caught  his  breath. 

Because  Margrave  had  been  for  more  than  a 

year  under  Gladys  Gray's  roof,  and  she  had  assisted 
him  in  deceiving  her  husband  by  pretending  they 
had  never  met  before  ! 

And  if  she  was  capable  of  that,  of  how  much  more 
might  she  not  be  !  Margrave  had  been  in  the  house 
from  morning  till  night,  nearly  all  the  time,  while  the 
husband  had  been  away  at  his  work  !  All  that  was 
needed  to  make  a  perfect  case  was  collusion  on  the 
part  of  a  servant,  or  the  mere  shutting  of  an  eye. 
And  the  domestic  that  cared  for  the  lodger's  room 
would  have  cut  off  her  hand  for  her  young  mistress. 

Gray's  face  was  a  combination  of  yellow  and  chalk 
as  he  faced  Mr.  Dibbs.  But  he  was  at  first  incap- 
able of  speech,  and  the  other  resumed  : 

"Then  here  is  the  letter  to  which  the  first  one 
refers.  I  don't  ask  what  it  means — you  can  judge 
that  for  yourself.  But  before  you  give  any  large 


**  WOMEN    ABE   QUEER   THINGS."  245 

slice  of  my  friend  Blair's  money  away  you  ought  t» 
have  all  the  facts  in  the  case  at  your  disposal." 

Gilbert  read  the  second  letter  and  still  he  could 
not  utter  a  word.  To  speak  would  be  to  plead 
guilty  to  a  monstrous  indictment. 

*'  I've  got  some  important  business  to  do,  and  I 
must  be  going,"  remarked  the  lawyer,  rising.  "  If 
it's  convenient  I'll  meet  you  again  this  afternoon. 
I'll  have  a  few  other  things  to  say  that  you'll  think 
strange,  I  guess.  And  now  I've  got  one  bit  of 
advice  to  give — don't  get  excited.  There's  several 
turns  in  the  road  yet,  and  maybe,  if  you  start  off  too 
rapid,  you'll  get  on  the  wrong  one." 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  Gilbert  felt  able  to  meet 
his  wife,  for  he  wanted  to  put  the  dreadful  question 
to  her  and  have  it  over  with.  If  she  could  clear  her- 
self no  one  would  be  more  pleased  than  he.  If  she 
could  not,  an  immediate  separation  was  the  only 
thing  for  them,  and  after  that  he  would  pay  his  re- 
spects to  the  cause  of  his  misery. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Gray?"  he  asked  ot  the  butler, 
when  he  responded  to  his  ring. 

"She  has  gone  out,  sir." 

"  Out !     How  long  has  she  been  out  ?" 

"  Nearly  all  the  morning,  sir.  It's  the  usual  time 
she  takes  her  drive,  sir." 

"  When  she  returns,  let  me  know." 

"  I  will,  sir." 

Her  usual  time.  Yes,  he  remembered  it,  now  it 
was  brought  to  his  attention.  And  he  was  also  sure 
that  the  mornings  out  that  had  become  so  common 
dated  pretty  nearly  from  the  time  when  Julius  Mar- 
grave ceased  to  live  at  their  house.  What  a  deep 


246  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

game  they  had  played  on  him,  those  two,  and  by 
what  a  simple  accident  it  had  been  discovered  ! 

When  Mrs.  Gray  returned  she  came  straight  to  the 
library  where  her  husband  still  awaited  her. 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  me,  Gilbert  ?"  she  asked, 
pleasantly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  sharply,  rising  to  shut  the  door 
that  they  might  be  alone.  "  /  want  you  to  tell  me 
WHO  was  the  father  of  your  first  child?" 

The  question  was  so  terrible — so  unexpected — so 
brutal,  and  the  husband's  manner  so  fierce,  that  Mrs. 
Gray  lost  her  power  of  speech. 

"  Come,  no  nonsense  !"  he  persisted,  roughly. 
"  Answer  !" 

"  I  must  not  tell  you  !"  she  stammered.  "  Oh,  Gil- 
bert, how  can  you  put  this  shame  on  me  after  all  the 
years  I  have  been  your  true  and  faithful  wife  ?" 

A  gush  of  tears  followed  the  outburst,  but  they  had 
no  effect  on  him  whatever. 

"  You  «  must  not  tell '  ?"  he  echoed.  "  Thank  God, 
I  do  not  have  to  depend  on  your  word  !  '  True  and 
faithful  ?'  How  do  you  reconcile  that  with  the  fact 
that  he  has  helped  you  to  deceive  a  husband  to 
whom  you  were  already  a  sufficient  disgrace  ?" 

Too  much  agitated  to  reply,  Gladys  could  only 
continue  to  weep,  but  when  he  added  that  they  must 
part  at  once,  and  that  he  would  never  look  her  in  the 
face  again,  she  uttered  a  wild  cry. 

"  No,  no  !  You  do  not  mean  that !  I  have  done 
nothing  wrong — not  since  that  first,  that  awful  time, 
so  many  years  ago  !  If  I  have  met  this  man,  it  was 
for  your  sake,  yes,  for  your  sake,  Gilbert  !  It  was 
not  for  myself — I  would  starve  by  your  side  if  need 


"  WOMEN   ARE   QUEER   THINGS."  24:7 

be — it  was  always  for  you  !  He  told  me — he  assured 
me " 

Violent  sobs  drowned  the  sentence,  and  when 
Mrs.  Gray  looked  up  again  she  was  alone. 

Not  daring  to  trust  himself  longer  in  her  presence, 
now  that  she  had  admitted  so  much,  Mr.  Gray  had 
hastened  from  the  room.  Snatching  his  hat  from  the 
rack  by  the  door  he  hurried  into  the  street  and 
started  rapidly  on  foot  toward  the  city.  He  did  not 
know  or  care  where  he  was  going,  he  only  wanted  to 
get  away  from  her. 

So  Margrave's  "  generosity"  was  all  on  Gladys* 
account  !  And  she  had  considered  it  the  duty  of  a 
"  faithful  "  wife  to  wheedle  money  out  of  a  paramour, 
as  long  as  she  put  it  in  a  husband's  hands  ! 

God  Almighty,  what  a  beast  she  must  have  thought 
him  ! 

And  still  he  felt  with  bitterness  that  he  was  to 
blame  for  the  estimate.  He  had  given  his  name  to 
an  abandoned  creature,  in  exchange  Tor  pounds  and 
shillings.  He  had  known  that,  before  she  should 
have  been  out  of  boarding  school,  she  had  sur- 
rendered the  dearest  possession  of  an  honest  girl  to 
some  man  beneath  the  consideration  of  her  father 
from  a  matrimonial  point  of  view.  She  had  bought 
her  husband  for  cash,  and  no  doubt  felt  that  he  put 
money  above  all  other  values.  Rather  than  be  re- 
duced to  penury — of  which  she  had  seen  quite 
enough  during  her  married  life — she  had  bargained 
with  Margrave  for  a  quarter  part  of  his  patrimony, 
and  of  course  had  paid  the  price. 

If  she  had  flown  with  her  paramour,  he  could  have 
borne  it  better.  But  to  share  her  caresses  between 


24:8  LOVE   GOKE   ASTRJLT. 

them,  to  pretend  such  virtue  while  carrying  on  her 
Illicit  relations,  this  was  the  farthest  depth  of  vil- 
lainy. 

How  long  had  her  affair  been  going  on  ?  Had  it 
ever  wholly  ceased  ?  Margrave  was  in  London  and 
in  Amsterdam  when  she  was  there.  He  had  been  in 
Chicago,  and  under  her  roof  a  great  deal  of  the  time 
since  she  returned  to  America. 

They  were  too  cunning  for  him.  He  gnashed  his 
teeth  as  the  confirmatory  evidence  began  to  range 
itself  in  line. 

Walking  on  and  on,  Gray  came  to  Washington 
street  in  its  busiest  portion,  and  had  nearly  run  over 
Israel  Dibbs  before  that  gentleman  could  stop  him. 

"  What's  up  ?"  cried  the  lawyer.  "  You  look  like 
a  crazy  man  !" 

And,  indeed,  he  did.  He  could  not  answer  the 
question  in  words,  and  putting  an  arm  through  one 
of  his,  Dibbs  drew  him  into  a  building  near  by,  and 
into  the  private  office  of  a  friend,  where  he  made  him 
sit  down. 

"  I  thought,  after  I  left  to-day,"  said  Dibbs,  "  that 
I  had  done  wrong  in  not  making  some  things  a  little 
clearer.  It  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  stumble 
on  a  wrong  scent  and  do  something  rash,  notwith- 
standing the  last  bit  of  advice  I  gave  you.  I  had  an 
engagement  to  keep,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  over  I 
went  out  to  your  house  in  a  carriage,  arriving  too 
late  to  find  you  in.  What  has  happened  to  make  you 
look  like  an  escaped  lunatic  ?" 

Finding  that  Gray  was  still  unable  to  speak,  the 
lawyer  helped  him. 

"  You've  been  having  words  with  your  wife  ?" 


"WOMEN  ARE   QUEER   THINGS.*  249 

The  answer  was  written  on  the  countenance  of  the 
man  questioned. 

"And  you've  been  accusing  her  of  something 
recent,"  said  Dibbs,  slowly,  "  in  connection  with  that 
man  Margrave  ?" 

There  was  no  denial  of  this  charge. 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you,"  pursued  Dibbs,  "  that  you 
are  wholly  wrong,  and  that  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  is  to  banish  your  suspicions  at  once  from  your 
mind." 

Thre"e  times  did  Gilbert  Gray  open  his  mouth  be- 
fore he  could  utter  an  articulate  sound.  His  lips 
were  dry,  and  his  tongue  thick. 

"  She  has  confessed.  It  is  all  over,"  he  muttered, 
at  last. 

"  Confessed — what  ?" 

"  Everything." 

"  The  devil  !"  said  Dibbs. 

Mr.  Gray  nodded.  He  did  not  like  to  talk  about 
it  any  more  than  he  could  help,  but  he  saw  that  this 
man  would  have  to  know,  and  that  there  never 
would  be  a  better  time  than  the  present  to  tell  him. 

"  Women  are  queer  things  !"  was  the  lawyer's  next 
statement.  "  Topsy  isn't  the  only  one  that  has  been 
taken  with  such  a  desire  to  '  confess  '  that  she's  had 
to  make  up  lies  to  do  it.  You've  not  forgot  the 
Beecher  scandal.  The  woman  in  that  case  used  to 
make  a  new  confession,  in  writing  too,  as  often  as 
any  one  asked  her,  and  she  never  committed  the  al- 
leged offense  once,  if  I'm  any  judge  of  evidence.  If 
your  wife  has  admitted  recent  wrong-doing  with 
Margrave,  she's  a  proper  subject  for  a  physician's 
care.  For  I  know  all  about  this  business — as  you 


250  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

will  in  a  shert  time  if  you  keep  your  wits  about  you — 
and  nothing  of  the  sort  has  occurred  !" 

It  seemed  a  very  flimsy  straw — this  mere  assertion 
of  the  lawyer's  against  the  direct  admissions  of  Mrs. 
Gray,  but  Gilbert  caught  at  it  with  the  frantic  clutch 
of  the  man  who  is  drowning. 

"  If  you  can  prove  that,"  he  said,  in  a  hoarse  whis- 
per, "  you  will  make  me  the  happiest  man  on  earth  !" 

"Then  prepare  to  enter  that  blissful  state,"  smiled 
Dibbs,  "for  I  take  my  oath  that  is  exactly  what  I  in- 
tend to  do.  But  you  will  have  to  meet  Margrave,  and 
it  will  be  necessary  that  you  conceal  in  his  presence 
the  suspicions  you  have  formed  in  regard  to  him." 

At  the  repeated  use  of  that  name,  Gilbert  colored. 

"  Have  you  gone  so  far  as  to  acknowledge  your 
mistake  ?"  he  asked.  "  Thrice  in  the  last  three  min- 
utes you  have  called  him  'Margrave.'  Are  you  will- 
ing to  admit  that  that  is  his  name  ?" 

There  was  a  wise  look  on  the  lawyer's  wrinkled 
countenance. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  slowly,  "  I  am  obliged  to  ad- 
mit it  now." 

"  Then  you  have  been  mistaken  all  along." 

Mr.  Dibbs  shook  his  head. 

"  His  name  ts  Margrave,  and  I  have  not  been  mis- 
taken," he  repeated.  "  For  that  riddle  a  long  ex- 
planation is  necessary,  and  I  think  should  be  given 
by  Mr.  Margrave  in  person.  Perhaps,"  he  paused 
and  consulted  his  watch,  "  perhaps  it  will  be  best  to 
send  for  him  now,  as  things  have  taken  such  a  turn, 
and  have  it  over  with." 

Gray  stared  at  his  companion. 

"  Then  you  know  where  he  is  ?"  he  asked. 


"  WOMEN   ABE   QUEER   THUTOS."  261 

"  Precisely.     He  is  in  jail." 

"  On  what  charge  ?" 

"  Attempting  to  swindle  Gilbert  Gray  out  of  more 
than  two  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

Gilbert  felt  his  brain  growing  light.  First  Dibbs 
had  promised  to  save  his  wife  to  him,  and  now  he 
talked  of  recovering  his  lost  fortune  !  It  surely  was 
a  dream.  It  could  not  be  reality. 

"  I  am  going  to  send  for  Margrave  at  once,"  con- 
tinued.Dibbs,  "and  have  you  listen  to  his  story  right 
where  you  are.  It  is  not  safe  to  let  you  go  out  of 
here  with  only  a  partial  knowledge  of  the  truth.  In 
more  than  one  case,  '  a  little  learning  is  a  dangerous 
thing.'  Will  you  promise  not  to  allude  to  anything 
in  connection  with  your  wife,  while  that  man  is  in 
your  presence  ?  Because,  without  that  promise,  there 
is  no  use  in  bringing  him." 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  Gilbert  agreed  to  the 
proposition,  and  the  lawyer  dispatched  several  notes 
by  various  messenger  boys  who  responded  to  his 
call. 

The  first  response  was  from  a  stenographer,  who 
was  to  take  a  verbatim  report  of  the  conversation  it 
was  expected  would  ensue.  And  shortly  afterwards 
two  sheriffs  appeared,  leading  a  prisoner  between 
them. 


252  LOVE  GONE   ASTRAY. 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

A   CROSS-EXAMINATION. 

EXCEPT  on  the  stage  no  man  whose  hands  are 
manacled,  and  who  is  in  the  custody  of  officers  of  the 
law,  looks  comfortable.  Margrave  was  not  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule,  but  when  he  saw  Mr.  Gray  he  put  on 
an  air  of  bravado,  which  he  doubtless  thought  would 
conceal  the  agitation  of  his  mind.  He  nodded  recog- 
nition, and  when  his  irons  were  removed,  at  Mr. 
Dibbs'  request,  rubbed  his  wrists  with  a  comical 
grimace,  and  remarked  that  jewelry  of  that  kind  was 
not  to  his  liking.  Then,  when  the  sheriffs  had  with- 
drawn into  the  outer  office,  and  he  was  left  alone 
with  the  lawyer,  the  stenographer  and  Mr.  Gray,  he 
settled  himself  easily  in  a  chair,  and  asked  whether 
there  was  anything  he  could  do  to  make  the  occasion 
more  agreeable  to  all  parties. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,"  replied  the  quiet  voice  of 
Mr.  Dibbs,  "  in  order  that  you  may  make  whatever 
statement  you  think  best,  before  this  gentleman," 
indicating  Gilbert,  "  as  to  your  connection  with  the 
Blair  estate.  Your  words  will  be  taken  down  in 
shorthand,  and  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  an  affidavit, 
to  which,  should  you  wish,  you  can  make  oath.  I 
offer  you  no  inducement  for  this.  You  are  to  leave 
the  future  entirely  to  me,  as  far  as  my  action  is  con- 
cerned. But  if  you  think  best  to  tell  the  truth  in 
relation  to  the  matter,  you  now  have  an  opportunity 
of  doing  so." 


A  CBOSS-EXAMINATIOW.  253 

There  Is  something  in  the  pushing  of  a  stenogra- 
pher's pencil  over  the  pages  of  a  notebook  deeply 
impressive  to  those  who  have  occasion  to  know  for 
the  first  time  that  their  words  are  .being  photographed 
with  absolute  precision. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  all  there  is  to  tell,"  was 
Margrave's  answer,  as  he  eyed  the  pencil. 

"What  I  ask,  then,  is  that  you  repeat  the  state- 
ment for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Gray,  and  in  the  hearing 
of  this  secretary.  If  you  prefer  to  decline " 

But  to  this  Margrave  demurred  instantly.  He  was 
quite  ready,  he  said,  to  answer  all  questions  put  to 
him. 

M  I  thought  you  would  be,"  said  Dibbs,  with  a  grim 
smile.  "  Now  let  me  say  one  thing  more.  Let  your 
answers  refer  wholly  to  the  point  at  issue,  and  not  by 
any  inadvertence  stray  beyond  it.  If  you  have  any- 
thing further  to  say — to  Mr.  Gray,  or  to  any  one — let 
it  remain  until  the  stenographer  has  gone." 

Gray  looked  up  gratefully  as  this  suggestion  was 
made,  for  he  had  feared  that  in  the  course  of  the  ex- 
amination something  might  be  uttered  which  he 
would  rather  third  parties  did  not  hear.  There  was 
sufficient  strain  already  upon  his  brain.  He  was  try- 
ing to  rest  on  the  assurance  of  the  lawyer  that  his 
wife  had  not  been  false  to  him  with  this  man,  though 
he  could  see  no  way  to  establish  an  innocence  which 
he  thought  she  had  herself  disclaimed.  But,  what- 
ever the  truth  of  that  matter,  the  letter  that  Dibbs 
had  found  in  the  papers  of  Colonel  Newcombe 
branded  Margrave  as  the  author  of  her  original  fall, 
which  was  enough  to  make  his  presence  most  hateful 


254  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

to  her  husband.  Gilbert  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  listened  anxiously  for  the  testimony  to  proceed. 

"  What  is  your  true  name  ?"  was  the  first  question 
Mr.  Dibbs  put  to  his  witness. 

"  Margrave,"  was  the  ready  answer. 

"  Christian  name  ?" 

"  Jonas." 

Gray  looked  up,  astounded. 

"  Have  you  ever  known  any  one  by  the  name  of 
Julius  Margrave  ?" 

"  Yes,  two  ;  my  father,  and  my  brother  by  a  second 
marriage." 

The  lawyer  had  maintained  that  this  man  was 
named  Margrave,  and  yet  that  he  was  a  fraud  and  a 
cheat.  Already  he  had  proved  the  truth  of  those 
assertions. 

In  answer  to  interrogatories,  Margrave  then  went 
on  to  tell  how  his  father  had  contracted  marriage 
with  Miss  Cynthia  Blair  within  a  year  of  the  death 
of  his  first  wife,  and  how  the  lady  had  died  shortly 
after  giving  birth  to  her  son  Julius.  The  father  was 
a  roving  fellow,  who  left  the  boys  in  charge  of  a 
housekeeper,  being  absent  for  months  at  a  time.  The 
children  attended  school  at  their  home  in  New  South 
Wales,  where  they  were  taken  in  infancy,  until  their 
early  manhood,  when  the  death  of  Mr.  Margrave,  Sr., 
sent  them  adrift.  With  what  little  funds  belonged 
to  them  they  went  to  England,  where  their  paths 
diverged. 

"  I  fell  in  with  a  party  of  gamblers,"  said  Jonas, 
coolly,  "and  found  that  my  forte  consisted  of  man- 
ipulating the  cards  and  the  dice-box.  Julius  went 
into  the  office  of  a  solicitor  named  Darius 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION.  255 

where  he  earned  a  scanty  living  for  several  years, 
under  the  impression  that  he  would  ultimately  gain 
admission  to  the  bar.  He  was  never  in  very  good 
health,  and  about  five  years  ago  he  migrated  sud- 
denly, in  search,  as  I  understood,  of  a  more  con- 
genial climate.  Not  long  ago  I  received  news  of  his 
death  at  Cape  Town." 

Cleared,  if  his  story  was  true,  of  the  charge  of 
intimacy  with  Gladys  in  her  youthful  days,  Mar- 
grave left  one  of  his  hearers  still  puzzled.  How 
could  his  statement  be  reconciled  with  that  of  Mrs. 
Gray,  that  she  had  met  the  father  of  her  child  of 
late,  and  had  striven  to  exact  aid  from  him  for  her 
hnsband  ? 

Must  the  onus  of  her  fall  be  taken  from  both 
Jonas  and  his  brother,  and  placed  on  still  another's 
shoulders  ?  And  if  so,  on  whose  ? 

"  Now,  about  the  Blair  estate,"  said  Mr.  Dibbs 
encouragingly. 

"  Well,  that's  rather  a  long  story,"  replied  Mar- 
grave, "  but  the  essential  point  is  that  Yates  had 
heard  of  the  conditions  of  the  will  from  Mr.  Gray, 
in  some  of  their  conversations.  He  had  reasons  for 
wanting  to  keep  Julius  out  of  England,  and  thought 
the  safest  way  was  to  hide  the  news  from  my  brother, 
who  was  depending  on  a  small  allowance  from  him 
for  his  living,  and,  might  reappear  if  he  should  fall 
into  a  fortune  of  that  size.  But  many  a  time  did 
Yates  hint  to  me  that  if  I  minded  my  business,  and 
all  went  as  he  expected,  I  would  be  a  rich  man  yet. 
All  I  must  do  was  to  leave  everything  to  him.  In 
the  belief  that  there  was  something  to  the  story  I 
went  on,  doing  his  bidding  like  a  negro  slave." 


256  LOVE   GONE    ASTEAT. 

Mr.  Dibbs,  who  had  been  growing  uneasy  for 
several  seconds,  interposed  a  remark  that  these 
particulars  were  unnecessary  at  this  time. 

"  When  did  you  first  announce  your  name  to  be 
that  of  Julius  Margrave  ?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"Nearly  a  year  ago — to  my  friends  in  the  'pro- 
fession.' Mr.  Yates  suggested  it,  and  said  he  would 
give  me  his  reasons  in  due  time.  We  both  knew 
that  my  brother  was  in  consumption,  and  could  not 
live  much  longer.  Naturally,  I  thought  the  money 
Yates  so  often  referred  to  must  be  some  thai  be- 
longed to  Julius,  but  as  he  was  so  near  the  end  I 
considered  him  quite  as  well  off  without  it.  After 
we  heard  of  Julius'  death,  Yates  began  sending  me 
letters  in  that  name,  to  further  establish  my  identity, 
I  suppose,  and  one  of  them,  that  came  by  accident 
into  Mr.  Gray's  hands,  upset  the  plot  and  put  me  in 
possession  of  every  card  that  my  smart  friend  held." 

Mr.  Dibbs  nodded,  and  looked  at  Gray,  who  was 
sitting  with  his  right  elbow  resting  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair,  biting  his  nails  nervously. 

"  That  letter  addressed  to  '  Julius  Margrave,'  "  pur- 
sued the  narrator,  "  was  left  with  Mr.  Gray.  The 
man  who  brought  it  described  me  and  said  I  had  a 
room  in  the  house,  which  was  true.  Mr.  Gray 
promptly  told  me  I  was  the  heir  to  the  fortune  left 
by  Mr.  Blair,  and  I  saw  the  whole  play  of  Mr.  Yates 
as  clear  as  crystal." 

The  stenographer  stopped  to  sharpen  a  pencil,  and 
then  the  man  proceeded. 

"  Of  course  I  went  to  Yates,  who  was  staying  here 
in  Chicago,  waiting  to  see  how  the  cat  would  jump, 
and  told  him  I  thought  we  had  been  partners  long 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION.  257 

enough.     I  said  I  was  going  in  for  my  fortune,  and  he 

had  better  not  get  in  my  way  unless  he  wanted  to  be 
hurt.  He  blustered  and  threatened,  but  he  didn't 
scare  me.  I  didn't  believe  he  would  dare  raise  my 
ante.  So  I  sent  to  New  South  Wales  for  photographs 
and  affidavits,  and  all  sorts  of  proof,  and  put  them 
into  the  case.  And  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,"  he 
Snapped  his  fingers  jocosely  at  Mr.  Dibbs,  "I  would 
have  divided  the  property  before  now  with  Mr.  Gray, 
and  more  than  likely  have  lost  the  whol-e  of  my  share 
in  some  big  plunge  at  the  gaming  table." 

The  lawyer  bowed,  as  if  he  had  no  intention  of 
disputing  these  assertions. 

*'In  short,"  he  said,  "your  name  is  Jonas  instead 
of  Julius  Margrave;  you  have  no  claim  whatever  to 
any  part  of  Abel  Blair's  property  ;  and  all  the  so- 
called  '  proofs  '  you  have  furnished  to  the  contrary 
are  false  and  worthless." 

"That's  about  it,"  said  Margrave. 

"And  to  this  you  are  willing  to  make  oath  T 

**  At  your  convenience." 

Consulting  first  with  the  shorthand  writer,  the  law- 
yer  said  he  would  call  at  the  jail  in  two  days'  time 
with  the  document  ready  for  the  affidavit. 

"  Two  days  ?  Can't  you  call  it  one  ?"  was  the  re- 
ply.  '*  I'm  not  particularly  struck  with  my  lodgings, 
and  my  landlord  is  such  an  old  curmudgeon  that  he 
won't  even  allow  me  a  latchkey.  I  don't  intend  to 
stay  there  much  longer  than  wiH  enable  me  to  accom» 
modate  you  with  these  little  matters." 

"  I  shall  need  two  days,"  said  Mr.  Dibbs.  "  As 
for  the  rest,  remember,  1  have  made  no  promises." 

Margrave  laughed. 


258  LOVE   GONE   A8TKAY. 

'*  Of  course.  But  the  habeas  corpus  writ  will  be 
issued,  just  the  same,  and  I  shall  sleep  in  a  decent 
bed  day  after  to-morrow  night.  I  hope  Mr.  Gray 
won't  forget,"  he  added,  "  that  he  owes  me  five  thou- 
sand dollars  and  interest,  which  will  come  in  very 
handy  in  the  present  emergency.  If  /  owed  it  to 
him,  he'd  dun  me  fast  enough,  as  I  have  occasion  to 
remember.''  This  with  another  laugh.  "  1  don't 
suppose,"  he  continued,  seeing  the  black  cloud  that 
was  gathering  on  Gilbert's  face,  "  that  he's  any  too 
fond  of  me,  seeing  the  trick  I  was  trying  to  play  ; 
but,  considering  that  he  has  all  the  stakes,  and  I 
haven't  drawn  a  single  pair,  I  don't  think  he  ought 
to  take  it  too  much  to  heart.'* 

Gray  rose  and  stepped  forward. 

"If  Mr.  Dibbs  is  through  with  you,"  he  said,  his 
voice  trembling  with  excitement,  "  I  want  you  to  an« 
swer  a  few  questions  to  me  alone  !" 

"  No,  no  !"  interposed  the  lawyer,  hastily.  "  Not 
to-day.  I  have  something  of  more  importance  to 
arrange  with  you.  Mr.  Margrave's  address  is  well 
known,  and  we  can  see  hkn  later." 

"Yes,"  smiled  the  prisoner,  not  much  disconcerted 
oy  Gilbert's  outburst,  "  you  can  call  at  any  reason- 
able hour  and  be  certain  to  find  me  in.  And  I  assure 
you,  Mr.  Gray,  I  will  answer  every  question  you  put 
to  me,  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I'm  a  gambler  and 
a  rogue,  but,  as  I  think  I  told  you  once  before,  I  con- 
sider you  a  White  man,  and  the  deal  from  now  on 
will  be  square  on  my  side." 

Unwillingly,  Gilbert  saw  the  sheriffs  enter,  rema>  * 
acle  their  man  and  take  him  away.  He  must  rely 
on  Dibbs  now.  The  lawyer  had  saved  him  iiis  for 


A   CROSS-EXAMINATION. 

tune,  and  had  asserted  his  ability  to  save  him  his 
wife  also.  The  only  way  was  to  be  guided  by  his 
advice  in  everything. 

"  We'll  go  up  to  your  house  now,"  said  Dibbs, 
when  the  room  was  cleared.  "  I  want  a  little  private 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Gray." 

To  this  Gilbert  strenuously  objected.  Until  his 
wife  was  cleared  of  the  accusations  she  had  made 
against  herself,  he  did  not  wish  to  enter  her  door. 
Mr.  E)  ibbs  might  go  and  welcome.  All  the  arguments 
that  could  be  brought  to  bear  failed  to  shake  him  in 
this  determination. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  you  ?"  asked  Dibbs,  "  when  I 
return  ?" 

"  I  will  go  to  the  Leland  House  and  take  a  room 
there.  You  can  ask  the  number  at  the  office." 

"Very  well,"  was  the  unwilling  reply.  "But,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  don't  get  into  any  foolishness  while 
you  are  gone.  We  will  have  this  thing  settled  to 
your  entire  satisfaction  in  a  day  or  two,  if  you  don't 
make  trouble  yourself.  I  think,"  continued  the  law- 
yer,  musingly,  "  that  the  best  thing  is  to  send  Hart- 
well  along  with  you.  He'll  keep  you  out  of  mischief 
and  entertain  you  at  the  same  time  with  some  of  the 
things  he  has  unearthed." 

Gray  asked  who  Hartwell  was,  for  he  did  not  like 
the  idea  of  being  put  under  surveillance,  as  if  he 
were  a  child. 

"  Hartwell  ?  Why,  he's  the  detective  who  has 
worked  up  this  whole  affair.  You'll  find  him  as  in- 
teresting as  a  new  novel.  He's  been  at  work  for 
months,  and  he  has  «t  nice  little  bili  against  you  by 


260  LOVE    GONE    ASTEA.Y. 

this  time,  too.  Come,  his  office  is  only  a  few  doors 
from  here.  Let  us  see  if  he  is  in." 

This  statement  put  a  very  different  face  on  the 
proposition,  and  Mr.  Gray  assented  eagerly  to  the 
proposal.  Mr.  Hartvvell  was  found,  and  proved  to 
be  an  undersized  man,  about  forty  years  of  age,  and 
with  the  last  face  that  would  be  thought  by  the  un- 
initited  to  belong  to  a  "  sleuthhound  "  of  justice. 

"  We'll  not  be  at  the  Leland,  though,"  said  Hart- 
well,  as  Dibbs  was  about  to  leave  them.  "  We'll  be 
at  the  Windsor.  And  when  you  go  to  the  office,  you 
needn't  ask  for  Mr.  Gray,  but  for  me." 

Gray  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  com- 
panions, but  made  no  reply.  He  felt  that  there  must 
be  a  reason  for  the  change,  and  that  it  would  be 
made  known  to  him  later.  He  was  anxious  to  put 
nothing  in  Mr.  Dibbs'  way.  If  he  should  return  with 
the  dreadful  riddle  solved — if  he  should  show  that 
Gladys  was  an  honest  wife — if  he  should  prove  their 
household  intact — life  would  be  worth  living  once 
more.  Without  those  things  the  thousands  Gilbert 
had  so  longed  for  would  be  an  empty  treasure  in  his 
hands. 

Mr.  Dibbs  did  not  find  Mrs.  Gray  at  home.  She 
had  been  gone  but  a  few  moments,  the  servant  said, 
and  had  left  a  letter  for  her  husband,  asking  that  it 
be.  delivered  to  him  when  he  came  in.  The  lawyer 
Stated  that  he  was  going  directly  to  Mr.  Gray  and 
would  hand  him  the  note.  He  hastened  to  his  cab, 
and  directing  the  driver  to  go  as  fast  as  possible  to 
the  Windsor  House,  he  tore  open  the  envelope.  It 
was  no  time  to  think  of  trifles. 

This  was  the  way  the  letter  read  : 


4    CROSS-EX  AMTN  A  TIO1C.  261 

" MY  HUSBAND: — Notwithstanding  the  cruel  words  yoa 
used  to  me  this  morning,  I  shall  make  one  more  effort  to 
save  the  fortune  that  should  by  right  be  yours.  I  have 
brought  you  nothing  but  shame  and  misery.  Whatever 
happens  you  cannot  regard  me  with  greater  horror  than 
you  already  do. 

"  Unless  I  send  you  before  to-morrow  full  proofs  that 
you  are  entitled  to  the  whole  of  Mr.  Blair's  estate,  you  will 
know  that  I  have  died  in  the  meantime.  You  can  draw 
your  own  conclusions.  I  cannot  exist  without  your  love, 
nor  if  anything  happens  to  make  me  less  worthy  of  it  than 
I  now  am. 

"  Be  good  to  the  children ;  they  at  least  are  not  to  blame. 
"  Your  heartbroken  GLADYS." 

The  good  lawyer  cursed  roundly  to  himself  in  the 
solitude  of  his  cab,  and  then  shouted  from  the  win- 
dow for  the  driver  to  quicken  the  pace  of  his  horses. 
Arriving  at  the  Windsor  he  hurried  to  Hart  well's 
room,  and  was  received  at  the  door  by  another  de- 
tective, named  Gardiner,  with  his  finger  on  his  lips. 

"  'Sh  !"  whispered  the  detective.  "  Step  lightly, 
and  don't  dare  even  to  breathe.  I  think  we've 
flushed  the  bird  1'* 


262  LOVE   GONE   ASTEAT. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

GLADYS     IN     PERIL. 

IN  that  same  Windsor  Hotel,  on  the  third  floor,  a 
pale  and  much  agitated  man  was  pacing  up  and 
down  his  sitting-room,  with  nervous  steps.  Fre- 
quently he  stopped  at  the  window  that  looked  upon 
the  street  and  peered  anxiously  below,  as  if  he  hoped 
to  see  a  familiar  face  in  the  mass  that  was  visible 
amid  the  lights  of  the  early  evening.  Anon  he  paused 
at  the  door  that  led  from  his  room  into  the  public 
hall,  listening.  The  watch  in  his  fob  pocket  was 
taken  out  and  inspected  every  few  moments,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Good  God  !  Why  doesn't  she  come  !"  he  ejacu- 
lated, under  his  breath,  again  and  again. 

There  were  dark  rings  about  his  eyes.  His  sleep 
had  evidently  been  irregular  of  late.  There  was 
something  careless  and  slipshod  in  his  attire.  His 
hair,  through  which  his  thin  fingers  were  passed  over 
and  over,  was  not  in  order.  His  temples  were  hot 
and  his  pulse  feverish. 

A  low  knock  at  the  door  roused  him  to  sudden 
action.  He  sprang  to  admit  the  newcomer,  a  veiled 
lady  in  black,  who  stepped  across  the  threshold  as  if 
she  had  a  fear  of  being  pursued.  The  portal  was 
closed  rapidly  behind  her  and  locked  with  a  spas- 
modic motion.  Then  the  man  turned  with  a  counte- 
nance beaming  with  joy  and  addressed  his  com- 
panion. 


GLADYS    IN   PERIL.  263 

*  Gladyss  my  darling!"  he  cried.  "You  have 
come  at  last.  I  knew  you  would  not  refuse,  when 
you  had  thought  of  everything  !" 

Mrs.  Gray,  for  it  was  she,  drew  back  from  the 
arms  that  threatened  to  enfold  her,  and  put  up  both 
hands  to  avoid  the  embrace.  Her  veil,  when  thrown 
back  from  her  face,  showed  that  she  was  even  paler 
than  he  had  been,  and  that  she  also  labored  under 
an  excitement  which  she  was  vainly  trying  to  con- 
ceal. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  answered,  wearily,  "  but  only 
to  talk  with  you — to  persuade  you  to  do  what  is 
right.  I  have  come  because  I  believe  there  is  virtue 
left  in  you  still." 

The  man  showed  disappointment  in  every  linea- 
ment. 

"  Then  you  have  made  a  great  mistake,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  no  virtue,  no  conscience,  that  can  stifle 
the  mad  love  I  feel  for  you — the  love  that  has  con- 
sumed me  every  hour  for  the  past  seven  years  ! 
Gladys,  I  beg  you  not  to  enter  on  that  strain,  for  it 
can  have  no  effect.  Sit  down,  compose  yourself,  and 
let  us  discuss  the  matter  sensibly." 

The  lady,  breathing  heavily,  complied  with  the 
suggestion  to  be  seated,  and  the  man  took  a  chair 
near  her. 

"  If  you  could  realize  the  depth  of  the  sentiment 
that  thrills  me,"  he  continued,  "  you  would  know 
better  how  to  forgive  the  means  I  take  to  bring  it  to 
fruition.  The  first  minute  I  saw  you  that  flame  was 
aroused  in  my  heart.  I  was  nearly  fifteen  years 
your  elder — I  had  a  wife  of  my  own — all  this  it  is 
useless  to  deny.  But  when  I  gazed  into  your  girlish 


264  LOVE    GONE   ASTEAT. 

eyes,  every  fibre  of  my  being  was  stirred  into  irresist- 
ible passion  !" 

The  face  opposite  to  his  averted  itself  and  there 
was  no  reply  from  the  white  lips. 

"You  know  what  happened,"  he  went  on.  "The 
third  time  we  met  you  made  a  promise  to  come  to 
my  rooms — alone — a  promise  that  you  broke.  But  at 
our  next  meeting  you  promised  again,  and  that  time 
you  kept  your  word.  I  meant  nothing  wrong  by 
you  ;  I  swear  it  !  I  wanted  you  where  I  could  bathe 
my  soul  in  your  loveliness,  but  I  did  not  dream  of 
bearing  away  the  flower  which  had  intoxicated  me 
with  its  perfume.  And  that  anything  did  occur  that 
day  beyond  an  exchange  of  civilities — perhaps  an  in- 
nocent kiss — was  it  altogether  my  fault,  Gladys  ?" 

A  groan  escaped  from  the  woman's  lips  at  the 
question. 

"Ah  !"  she  cried.  "You  were  older — you  were  a 
man — you  should  have  been  too  generous  to  accept 
such  an  advantage  ;  you  should  have  repulsed  me  ! 
No,  you  cannot  escape  your  guilt  by  reminding  me 
that  my  brain  was  the  first  to  take  fire,  unused  to  such 
a  situation  as  that  of  an  infant  in  its  cradle  !" 

He  bade  her  lower  her  voice,  which  had  been 
raised  to  a  key  that  might  have  been  heard  outside 
the  apartment. 

"You  never  give  me  the  least  credit,"  he  com- 
plained, "for  the  part  I  acted  when  the  harm  was 
done  ;  for  the  shrewd  manner  in  which  I  saved  your 
reputation  to  the  world,  by  arranging  your  marriage. 
Who  else,  think  you,  would  have  secured  that  letter 
from  young  Margrave,  and  kept  him  out  of  the  coun- 
try until  his  death  ?  He  never  even  knew  to  whom 


GLADYS   IN   PEKIL.  265 

it  was  sent,  and  in  his  consumptive  condition  the 
only  thing  that  mattered  to  him  was  the  monthly 
pension  I  provided.  It  took  no  small  amount  of 
labor,  either,  to  bring  Gray  to  the  point.  And,  all 
that  time,  consider  the  agony  I  suffered  in  resigning 
you  to  the  arms  of  another  man,  even  though -I  be- 
lieved in  my  inmost  soul  you  would  still  have  the 
gratitude  to  continue  mine.  I  had  to  wear  a  smile 
when  the  canker  was  eating  my  heart.  I  was 
obliged  to  cajole  that  jackanapes  when  I  would  have 
preferred  to  cut  his  throat.  You  never  remember 
these  things,  Gladys.  You  never  think  of  what  I 
endured  because  I  was  tied  to  another  woman  and 
could  not  wed  you  myself.  I  gave  you  up,  I  made 
you  a  wife,  I  took  your  repulses,  I  saw  you  fading 
out  of  my  reach.  I  learned  you  had  borne  a  second 
child,  and  that  it  belonged  to  him  !  Can  there  be  a 
greater  hell  in  the  next  world  than  has  been  mine 
during  these  years  ?" 

Many  times  in  the  course  of  this  outburst  did  Mrs. 
Gray  try  to  interrupt  the  speaker,  and  at  its  close  she 
addressed  him  piteously. 

"But  why,"  she  asked,  "when  all  this  was  past, 
when  the  good  you  tried  to  do  me  was  accomplished, 
when  I  was  living  honorably  with  this  man,  must  you 
seek  to  tear  me  from  him  ?  Why,  when  the  clouds 
that  you  brought  on  my  head  had  so  nearly  disap- 
peared, must  you  come  to  plunge  me  again  into 
darkness  ?" 

He  leaned  toward  her  and  spoke  in  a  very  low 
voice. 

"  Because  the  time  has  at  last  arrived  when  I  can 
take  you  to  my  home,  when  I  can  give  you  my  name. 


266  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

For  the  past  year  I  have  been  a  widower.  I  want 
you,  Gladys,  more  than  ever,  now  that  no  other  mar- 
riage stands  in  my  way.  Never  for  a  second  have  I 
ceased  to  love  you,  and  your  repeated  refusals,  your 
reiterated  repulses  will  be  forgiven  only  when  the 
law  has  separated  you  from  him  and  made  you  mine 
forever  !" 

The  hands  of  Mrs.  Gray  were  clasped  over  her  face, 
and  her  form  rocked  to  and  fro  in  pain. 

"  Whatever  you  may  have  had  of  love  for  me,"  she 
answered,  "  I  never  felt  the  least  affection  in  return. 
In  spite  of  my  conduct  in  those  days  when  you  threw 
your  evil  personality  around  me,  I  never  cared  for 
you  ;  no,  never  !  I  used  to  leave  your  side  in  the 
bitterest  contrition  for  my  sins.  I  returned  to  you 
as  the  bird  goes  to  the  fangs  of  the  snake  it  knows 
not  how  to  resist.  Even  when  giving  all  that  is  sup- 
posed to  go  with  the  deepest  love,  I  hated  you  with 
my  whole  mind.  More  than  once,  with  lips  pressed 
to  yours,  I  have  wished  that  a  knife  lay  near,  that  I 
might  plunge  it  into  your  breast !  And  when  I  re- 
member the  suffering  you  made  me  endure — the 
misery  I  brought  to  the  best  of  fathers,  the  lies  I  told 
to  the  kindest  of  mothers,  the  shame  I  became  to  the 
most  honorable  of  husbands,  I  wonder  I  do  not  find 
some  weapon  to  kill  you  now,  instead  of  supplicating 
for  the  mercy  it  is  not  in  your  iron  heart  to  grant  !" 

The  man  winced  under  the  lash,  but  he  had  no 
idea  of  giving  up.  He  renewed  liis  arguments,  con- 
fident that  in  the  end  she  would  have  to  succumb  to 
his  wishes. 

"You  know  what  I  can  do,  if  you  drive  me  to  it," 
he  said,  slowly.  "I  can  send  your  husband  proofs 


GLADYS    IN   PERIL.  267 

that  you  have  met  me  here  repeatedly  and  been 
closeted  with  me  for  hours  together.  I " 

"  But  he  knows  it  already,"  she  interrupted,  wJth  a 
shiver. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked,  glancing  toward 
the  door  in  alarm. 

"  I  mean  that  he  accused  me  of  it  to-day,  and  that 
I  had  not  the  courage  to  deny  the  charge.  Yes,"  she 
added,  as  she  saw  the  effect  her  words  produced,  ''  he 
knows  it  now,  all  about  Marianne  and  everything  ;  he 
knows  we  have  had  secret  meetings  ;  and  he  told 
me  " — she  uttered  a  gasp — "  that  because  of  this  he 
would  never  see  or  speak  to  me  again.  He  left  the 
house  hours  ago,  and  he  has  not  returned." 

This  was  indeed  unexpected  news.  Quick 
thoughts  passed  through  the  brain  of  the  listener. 
What  was  Mr.  Gray  doing  at  the  present  moment  ? 
More  than  likely  searching  the  city  to  find  him,  and 
if  so,  with  no  amicable  intentions.  However,  in- 
quiry at  the  hotel  office  would  not  reveal  the  correct 
name  of  the  occupant  of  his  rooms,  for  a  pseudonym 
had  always  been  used  there.  All  the  stronger 
reasons  now  prevailed  for  securing  Gladys  and  mak- 
ing the  quickest  possible  flight  to  Europe. 

"  If  your  husband  has  said  this,"  he  told  her, "  you 
can  never  hope  to  regain  his  affection.  A  gulf  is 
now  established  between  you.  Well,  in  exchange 
for  his  coldness,  I  offer  the  warmest  love.  His  home 
will  be  closed  to  you,  mine  will  be  open.  You  shall 
bring  both  your  children,"  he  went  on,  eagerly.  "  I 
will  give  them  the  care  of  a  father  without  distinc- 
tion. Gladys,  my  dearest,  I  do  not  wish  to  threaten 
you.  I  have  only  tried  to  use  the  surest  means  to 


268  LOVE   GONE    ASTBAT. 

bring  you  to  my  way  of  thinking.  If  there  is  any 
other  stipulation  that  you  wish  me  to  make,  you  have 
but  to  ask  and  you  will  see  how  willingly  I  will 
grant  it.  Only  I  must  have  you.  I  cannot  live  with- 
out you  !" 

She  thought  of  the  home  that  was  ruined  and  her 
heart  sank.  Gilbert  had  cast  her  off.  The  fortune 
he  had  thought  to  gain  by  his  marriage  had 
vanished.  If  she  could  bring  it  back  to  him,  per- 
haps— perhaps — he  would  forgive  her. 

"  It  would  be  so  easy  for  you  to  help  me  out  of 
my  troubles,"  she  stammered.  "You  say  you  pos- 
sess proofs  that  Mr.  Margrave  has  no  right  to  the 
property  that  Mr.  Blair  willed  Gilbert.  You  admit 
that  you  have  nothing  personally  to  gain  or  lose  in 
the  transaction.  Why,  oh  !  why,  will  you  not  give 
those  proofs  to  me,  and  let  me  take  them  to  my  hus- 
band ?  With  that  simple  act  you  would  make  me 
the  happiest  woman  on  earth,  and  do  much  to  blot 
from  your  soul  the  terrible  record  of  sin  that  so  dis- 
figures it.  You  will  do  it  !  I  know  you  will  !"  she 
cried,  sinking  on  the  carpet  at  his  feet.  "  You  have 
only  been  trying  me  !" 

He  put  his  hands  on  her  head  and  the  touch 
seemed  to  harden  rather  than  melt  him. 

"  He  took  you  once  for  money,  and  you  think  he 
would  do  so  again  !"  he  answered,  bitterly.  "  Per- 
haps he  would  ;  I  do  not  think  his  estimate  of  you  is 
much  higher  than  that.  But  I  assure  you  I  shall  not 
help  him  this  time.  No,  I  have  the  secret  that  can 
make  him  rich,  and  mine  it  remains  unless  you  give 
your  own  sweet  self  in  exchange.  In  this  envelope 
is  absolute  evidence  that  the  Blair  estate  is  his. 


GLADYS   IN   PEEIL.  269 

Swear  to  go  with  me  to  Europe,  and  to  marry  me  as 
soon  as  a  divorce  from  him  can  be  obtained,  and  I 
will  give  you  that  package.  If  you  think  you  owe 
him  anything  more  than  he  has  already  had,  your 
debt  will  be  richly  paid  with  these  papers.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  send  him  this  envelope  by  a  messen- 
ger, with  a  note  saying  you  will  not  see  him  again. 
The  children  are  easily  obtainable,  and  I  will  guaran- 
tee that  on  Saturday  we  and  they  will  be  on  the 
ocean.  If  you  decline  you  have  simply  lost  him  and 
he  has"  lost  his  property.  I  will  make  no  other 
terms." 

The  woman's  eyes  began  to  scintillate  with  strange 
fires.  She  seemed  to  realize  her  helplessness  in  the 
presence  of  this  strong  force. 

"  Let — me — see,"  she  murmured.  "  Gilbert  is  to 
have  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  exchange  for 
me.  Do  you  think  that  will  satisfy  him  ?" 

"  He  will  call  it  a  splendid  bargain  !" 

"  And  I — what  am  I  to  get  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  your  love 
and  esteem  !" 

"  The  truest  ever  given  woman.  Gladys,  only 
come  with  me  and  I  will  never  leave  you  one  hour 
for  repentance." 

As  if  almost  persuaded  she  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then  burst  into  sobbing. 

"Why  do  you  want  me?"  she  asked,  wildly. 
"  Look  more  carefully.  I  am  not  as  young  as  I  was. 
I  have  borne  two  children — and  nursed  them — since 
you  used  to  know  me.  My  beauty  is  badly  faded. 
These  are  not  the  goods  that  attracted  your  eye 
when  they  were  first  placed  on  the  counter.  You  say 
I  may  bring  both  my  babies — his  as  well  as  yours  ? 


270  L.OVE    GONE    ASTKAT. 

Are  you  certain  you  will  never  show  a  difference 
between  them,  as  he  has  never  done  ?" 

With  all  the  passion  that  filled  his  veins  he  met 
every  question.  He  should  love  her,  old  or  young, 
fresh  or  faded.  His  affection  was  one  of  a  lifetime. 
Her  child  should  be  his.  He  saw  that  she  was  about 
to  yield  and  he  wanted  to  make  his  happiness  certain, 
at  whatever  cost. 

"Give  me  the  envelope,"  she  said,  at  last,  resum- 
ing her  seat  in  the  chair.  "  Show  me  exactly  what 
it  contains.  One  must  be  very  careful  when  one  is 
asked  to  pay  so  dear  a  price." 

"If  these  documents  establish  what  I  claim,  then, 
have  I  your  promise  ?"  he  demanded. 

She  bowed,  reaching  out  her  hand  for  them. 

"  You  promise  to  be  mine,  as  long  as  you  live  ?" 

"  To  be  yours — as  long — as  I — live." 

With  a  glad  cry  he  tried  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms% 
but  she  held  him  off. 

"Wait!"  she  said,  imperiously.  "The  payment, 
first." 

Convinced  that  she  would  keep  her  word,  he 
opened  the  package,  and  spread  the  contents  before 
her. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  when  she  had  perused 
thsm,  "Julius  Margrave  died  at  Cape  Town  in 
August  last.  His  half  brother,  who  has  imperson- 
ated him,  will  get,  if  he  has  his  deserts,  about  ten 
years  in  the  State  prison.  This  leaves  Mr.  Gray 
heir  to  the  whole  property." 

Yes,  it  was  very  plain.  Gilbert  would  get  the 
money  as  soon  as  it  was  shown  that  Margrave  was  a 
fraudulent  claimant.  Gladys*  confused  brain  had 


GLADYS    IN    PERIL.  271 

strength  enough  left  to  comprehend  that.  She  sat 
down  at  a  desk  and  addressed  the  envelope  to  her 
husband.  Then  she  wrote  a  short  note,  saying  that 
she  had  kept  her  word,  and  that  he  must  not  try  to 
find  her,  as  all  was  over  between  them.  She  moved 
the  pen  mechanically  across  the  paper,  and  her  com- 
panion, who  leaned  over  her  shoulder,  expressed  his 
satisfaction  with  the  tenor  of  the  communication. 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  rising,  "  I  will  go  and  take 
this  to  his  house,  giving  it  to  the  servant  for  him. 
It  is  very  important  that  it  gets  into  his  hands  safely." 

The  ruse  was  too  transparent  to  succeed. 

"  Excuse  me,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  can  hardly 
permit  that.  I  will  ring  for  a  district  messenger." 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  supposing  the  boy  should  tell 
Mr.  Gray  where  we  are,  and  he  should  come  here  and 
find  us." 

"  If  I  give  him  five  dollars,  he  will  agree  to  know 
nothing  about  it.  No,  my  dear,  we  have  been  separ- 
ated for  the  last  time." 

She  was  at  the  end  of  her  excuses,  and  she  saw  the 
call-button  pressed  without  further  objection.  When 
the  messenger  came,  the  envelope  with  the  bribe  for 
secrecy  was  put  into  his  hand. 

"  You  dorit  know  where  this  came  from,  under- 
stand ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy.     "  I  understand  perfectly." 

And,  although  he  was  but  fourteen  years  of  age, 
he  thought,  as  he  looked  from  one  of  them  to  the 
other,  that  he  did. 

"  Now,"  said  the  man,  when  the  door  was  locked 
again,  "  you  are  mine  !" 

He  moved  toward  her,  but  she  stepped  backward. 


272  LOVE  ©ONE  ASTBAY. 

/  "A  minute  !"  she  cried.  "  A  minute.  You  need 
not  be  in  such  haste,  when  you  are  to  have  me  '  as 
long — as  I — live.  ' ' 

There  was  something  in  her  manner  that  alarmed 
him.  He  thought  uneasily  of  what  she  had  said  a 
short  time  before — of  her  declaration  that  if  she  did 
her  duty  she  would  kill  him.  He  did  not  try  to 
follow  her  closely,  for  he  suspected  that  she  meant 
him  harm.  And  before  he  had  the  least  idea  of  what 
she  intended,  she  had  sprung  into  his  bed-room,  and 
locked  the  door  in  his  face. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  STAND   BACK  !" 

IN  engaging  Mr.  Hartwell  to  "  work  up  "  the  Blair 
atfair,  Mr.  Dibbs  had  hit  upon  exactly  the  right  per- 
son. There  is  a  pretense  in  some  quarters  of  despis- 
ing the  art  of  the  private  detective,  but  when  he  is 
honest  and  capable  he  can  be  of  the  greatest  service 
to  the  community.  In  dealing  with  scoundrels  it  is 
impossible  that  one  should  pursue  means  that  are 
wholly  above  board.  Rascality  is  not  ordinarily  per- 
petrated in  the  full  light  of  day.  He  who  would  fer- 
ret it  out  needs  to  imitate  the  fox  and  the  serpent, 
but  his  calling  is  honorable  for  all  that. 

Mr.  Hartwell  had  known  for  some  time  that  Mrs. 
Gray  was  holding  private  meetings  with  a  gentleman 
who  had  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the  Windsor  Hotel.  It 


"STAND  BACK!"  273 

became  a  part  of  his  duty  to  know  what  transpired 
at  those  meetings,  and  he  adopted  the  simple  way  of 
hiring  the  adjoining  apartment.  With  sufficiently 
delicate  tools  he  contrived  to  penetrate  the  connect- 
ing wall,  without  giving  cause  for  suspicion,  and  not 
a  meeting  after  that  took  place  which  he  did  not  at- 
tend. 

He  deemed  it  wisest  to  keep  his  counsel  for  the 
present.  He  realized  the  temptations  that  were 
thrown,  around  the  young  woman  ;  but  he  was  also  a 
witness  to  the  sturdy  manner  in  which  she  held  to 
the  path  of  virtue.  Had  any  real  danger  presented 
itself  he  would  have  alarmed  her  by  noises  on  the 
wall,  and  if  necessary  have  gone,  even,  to  the  door 
and  demanded  admittance. 

Although  possessed  of  plenty  of  evidence  by  this 
time  that  Jonas  Margrave  was  a  fraud,  the  detective 
was  not  averse  to  having  his  proofs  strengthened. 
He  had  heard  the  man  in  the  adjoining  room  declare 
that  he  possessed  an  envelope  containing  proof  that 
Gilbert  Gray  was  the  only  heir  to  the  Blair  estate. 
It  was  Mr.  Hartwell's  full  intention  to  get  that  en- 
velope into  his  hand  before  he  had  done  with  this 
affair,  and  he  missed  none  of  the  interviews,  lest  the 
precious  documents  should  be  disposed  of  at  a  time 
when  he  could  not  follow  them.  At  the  last  previous 
meeting,  Gladys  had  been  promised  that  if  she  would 
return  again  the  evidence  claimed  would  be  spread 
before  her.  Hartwell  kept  his  assistant,  Mr.  Gar- 
diner, on  duty  every  moment,  ready  to  notify  him  if 
the  lady  made  her  appearance.  On  the  day  when 
he  went  to  the  hotel  with  Gilbert,  he  was  just  in  time 


274  LOVE    GONK 

to  anticipate  his  messenger,  and  to  hear  the  entire 
conversation  related  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

When  Mr.  Dtbbs  came  in  he  found  Mr.  Gray  sit. 
ting  dolefully  with  the  second  detective  in  the  room 
farthest  from  that  communicating  with  the  one  in 
which  Gladys  was  staying.  Gray  had  been  told  that 
his  wife  was  in  the  house,  and  that  her  every  action 
could  be  watched  by  Hartwell  from  the  inner  cham- 
ber. But  he  had  also  been  assured  that  her  conduct, 
strange  as  it  might  seem,  was  fully  consistent  with 
uprightness,  and  that  if  he  would  only  summon  the 
patience  to  remain  quiet  a  short  time  it  would  be 
proved  to  his  satisfaction.  He  nodded  to  Dibbs,  but 
did  not  speak.  The  perspiration  was  standing  on 
his  forehead  and  he  was  as  weak  as  an  infant. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  his  position  was  not  an 
agreeable  one.  All  he  cared  for  in  life  hung  on  a 
thread  that  seemed  of  the  slenderest  texture.  If  he 
had  known  that  Gardiner  had  orders  to  keep  him 
there  at  any  cost,  even  were  it  necessary  to  bind  and 
gag  him,  he  would  have  been  more  nervous  still. 
Mr.  Hartwell  had  no  intention  of  having  his  brew 
spoiled  at  that  critical  moment,  even  by  the  man  in 
whose  interest  he  was  at  work. 

It  was  a  horrible  hour  that  Gray  waited,  and  he  said 
afterwards  that  he  would  not  have  believed  a  human 
being  could  endure  so  much  pain  and  live. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Hartwell  bounded  into  the  room, 
and  with  a  low  cry  of  "  Come,  all  of  you  !"  burst  out 
of  the  door  that  led  into  the  hall.  The  arrangement 
of  the  floor  was  such  that  several  sections  had  to  be 
traversed  before  the  other  apartment  was  reached, 
which  took  time  that  could  illy  be  spared.  But  in 


"  STAND   BACK  !"  275 

twenty  seconds  the  fist  of  the  detective  was  knock- 
ing loudly  on  the  door  and  his  voice  demanding 
fiercely  for  the  man  inside  to  open. 

For  a  small  person  Mr.  Hartwell  had  a  good  deal 
of  strength.  He  could  have  broken  a  panel  of  the 
door  unaided  had  he  chosen.  The  wood  began  to 
creak  threateningly.  Several  employes  of  the  house 
came  running  to  see  what  had  caused  the  trouble. 

"Stand  back!"  cried  a  voice  on  the  inside.  "I 
will  blow  a  hole  through  the  first  man  that  enters  !" 

"  Nonsense  !"  replied  Hartwell.  "  Do  you  want 
the  woman  to  die  ?  I  think  she  is  committing  sui- 
cide !  It  is  for  her  sake,  not  yours,  that  I  ask  admit- 
tance." 

Evidently  startled  by  the  suggestion  that  Gladys 
was  in  danger,  and  having  failed  to  elicit  the  least 
reply  from  her  to  the  calls  he  had  made  before  the 
others  came,  the  man's  attitude  changed  at  once. 

"  Wait,  then,"  he  answered.  "  Don't  break  the 
door  ;  I  will  unlock  it.  But  remember,  I  am  armed, 
and  no  one  shall  touch  me." 

At  the  opening  of  the  portal  half  a  dozen  men 
tumbled  into  the  roon>.  The  pistol  that  had  been 
drawn  was  knocked  from  the  man's  hand  before  he 
could  form  a  thought,  and  Gardiner  had  him  a  pris- 
oner. 

"  My  God  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Gray,  as  he  looked  at 
the  ashen  features.  "  Darius  Yates  !" 

But  the  voice  of  Hartwell,  calling  to  Mrs.  Gray  to 
open,  as  her  husband  and  friends  were  there,  nerved 
him  to  the  greater  duty  of  the  moment.  He  saw 
that  bracelets  of  iron  were  on  the  wrists  of  his 
enemy,  and  that  he  was  not  likely  to  get  away  from 


276  LOVE    GOWB    ASTRAY. 

his  captor ;  and  a  second  later  his  shoulder  was 
added  to  the  others  that  were  pressing  on  the  door 
that  led  into  the  bedroom  in  which  Gladys  had 
sought  refuge.  The  obstruction  gave  way  before 
them.  And  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  in  an  arm- 
chair, her  head  thrown  back  and  her  eyes  closed,  he 
saw  the  still  form  of  his  wife. 

"Gladys!"  he  cried,  grasping  her  limp  hand. 
«  Gladys  !  Speak  to  me  !" 

He  was  kneeling  on  the  floor,  in  an  agony  of  fear, 
of  love  and  of  repentance.  Mr.  Hartwell,  more  prac- 
tical, pushed  up  the  eyelids  with  his  fingers,  and 
placing  his  nostrils  at  the  mouth,  drew  in  a  long 
breath. 

"  She  has  taken  opium  in  some  form,"  he  said. 
Then  to  one  of  the  hotel  boys,  "  Run  for  a  doctor, 
as  quick  as  you  can  !  Her  life  may  depend  on 
seconds  !"  To  another  he  gave  directions  to  bring 
with  all  haste  some  simple  remedies  that  could  be 
obtained  in  the  kitchen  ;  and,  calling  to  Mr.  Dibbs  to 
take  charge  of  Yates,  he  summoned  Gardiner  into 
the  room,  as  more  experienced  in  cases  of  this  kind. 

It  touched  the  heart  of  the  husband  to  see  the 
rough  manner  in  which  these  men  handled  his  dar- 
ling— for  she  had  never  been  so  dear  to  him  as  she 
was  now.  Innocent  or  guilty  she  had  been  his  wife  ; 
she  had  lain  in  his  arms;  and  he  loved  her  !  Hartwell 
took  a  pocket-knife  and  cut  the  corset  strings  and 
collar,  that  the  breathing  might  be  freer.  Then  be- 
tween them  the  officers  shook  and  tumbled  the 
unfortunate  lady  about  in  a  way  that  would  on  any 
other  occasion  have  been  most  inconsiderate  and  im- 
polite. 


"  STAND   BACK  <  277 

"  She  is  living,"  exclaimed  Hartwell.  "  She  must 
be  roused,  or  the  doctor  will  find  himself  too  late." 

The  hope  of  the  detective — which  was  that  Gladys 
had  swallowed  an  overdose  of  laudanum — proved 
correct,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  treatment  to  which 
they  subjected  her  was  soon  apparent.  As  this  is  not 
a  medical  treatise  it  may  suffice  to  say  that  when  the 
physician  arrived  he  pronounced  her  out  of  danger, 
and  that  the  stupor  of  impending  dissolution  was 
soon  changed  to  the  calm  and  peaceful  sleep  of 
safety. 

"  She  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  hours,"  said  the 
doctor  to  the  anxious  husband,  when  he  was  ready 
to  leave.  "  It  is  best  for  her  and  for  you  that  you 
leave  the  room.  The  nurse  that  I  have  placed  in 
charge  will  see  to  all  her  needs.  When  she  awakes 
it  will  not  do  for  her  to  get  excited." 

Gilbert,  relieved  more  than  words  can  express, 
walked  with  the  two  detectives  out  of  the  bedroom 
and  into  the  parlor.  A  new  door,  taken  from  some 
other  room,  had  been  hung  already  in  place  of  the 
broken  one,  and  through  the  efforts  of  the  manage- 
ment the  neighborhood  of  the  apartment  had  as- 
sumed its  wonted  quiet.  One  of  the  hall  boys  told 
them  that  "  the  other  gentlemen  "  had  gone  into  Mr 
Hartwell's  chamber0,  and  they  went  in  that  direction. 
Wild  thoughts  began  to  come  to  Gray's  heated  brain, 
and  he  wanted  to  be  face  to  face  again  with  the 
would-be  destroyer  of  his  peace. 

"  Look  here  !"  said  Hartwell,  pausing  in  the  hall- 
way. "  You're  not  going  to  act  nasty  with  that  fel- 
low, in  this  house,  are  you  ?  Because,  that  won't  do 
at  all.  I  can  swoar  there's  been  nothing  wrong  be- 


278  LOVE    GONE    ASTRAY. 

tween  them  here.  They've  not  been  one  second  with- 
out my  eyes  on  them.  The  woman  has  acted  as  true 
to  you  as  steel.  He  told  her  he  could  prove  Margrave 
a  liar,  and  save  you  the  estate,  and  in  exchange  for  the 
papers  she  has  offered  you  her  life.  It  was  a  clear 
attempt  at  suicide.  He  was  as  scared  as  you  please 
when  she  jumped  into  that  bedroom  and  locked  her- 
self in.  We'll  decide  what  to  do  with  him  when  we 
get  there  ;  but  don't  you  try  to  take  the  law  on  your- 
self, for  I  shall  have  to  stop  you,  if  you  do." 

Gray  did  not  want  a  debate.  He  did  not  like  to 
make  promises.  He  wanted  to  see  Yates  as  soon  as 
possible,  leaving  his  conduct  to  be  considered  later. 
He  contented  the  detective  with  a  nod,  and  they 
went  on  together.  But  on  arriving  at  their  destina- 
tion, a  surprise  awaited  them. 

Mr.  Dibbs  was  sitting  at  a  window — alone,  looking 
out  upon  the  street. 

"  Where's  Yates  ?"  asked  Hartwell  and  Gardiner  in 
one  breath. 

"  Gone,"  said  Mr.  Dibbs,  imperturbably. 

"  Gone — where  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  didn't  ask  him.  I  understood 
he  had  some  private  affairs  to  attend  to." 

The  three  men  gazed  at  each  other  with  open 
mouths. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  released  him  ?"  asked 
Gray,  fiercely. 

"That's  just  what  I  did." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Hartwell.  "  Come,  there's  no  use 
in  this  mystery.  I  left  the  man  in  your  hands,  and  if 
you've  let  him  go,  I  want  the  reason  !" 

u  Yes  !"  echoed  Gilbert.     "  And  I  want  it,  too  !" 


"  STAND    BACK  I"  279 

The  lawyer  rose  and  came  easily  toward  the  trio. 

**  Mr.  Gray  wants  the  reason,  and  he  shall  have 
it,"  said  he.  "  You  must  be  satisfied,  gentlemen," 
he  prided  to  the  others,  "  that  I  did  what  I  thought 
on  the  whole  the  wisest  thing  for  all  concerned. 
You  know  me  well  enough  not  to  think  he  scared  or 
bribed  me.  I  am  acting  for  Mr.  Gray,  and  I  think 
I  shall  convince  him  that  I  made  no  mistake.  Will 
you  kindly  let  us  have  the  room  for  a  short  time  ?" 

The  manner  of  .the  speaker  was  convincing,  and 
after  a  brief  consultation  the  detectives  retired  into 
the  inner  chamber  and  closed  the  door  after  them. 

"  Let  us  sit  down,"  said  Dibbs,  when  he  and  Gil- 
bert were  alone.  "  You've  had  excitement  enough 
for  one  day.  Now,  why  did  I  take  the  responsibility 
to  let  that  scamp  off  on  leg  bail  ?  Because  I  knew 
that  he  could  not  be  convicted  of  any  offense  known 
to  the  laws  of  this  State,  and  that  it  would  bring 
nothing  but  additional  distress  on  you  and  your 
family  to  take  him  before  a  jury." 

Mr.  Gray  clenched  his  fists. 

"I  don't  want  any  jury  to  deal  with  him  !"  he 
answered.  "  I  can  attend  to  that  matter  myself." 

"Very  likely,"  was  the  cool  rejoinder.  "But  it 
was  not  a  part  of  my  business  to  hold  a  man  here 
with  handcuffs  on  while  you  came  in  and  pummeled 
him.  If  you  want  to  see  him  again — which,  on  reflec- 
tion, I  am  sure  you  won't — you  must  take  the  chance 
of  finding  him.  I  only  looked  at  the  question  of  law. 
He  might  be  indicted  for  conspiring  with  Jonas  Mar- 
grave to  swindle  you  out  of  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, but  the  evidence  would  be  Margrave's  word  alone, 
and  we  don't  want  to  rest  a  case  on  such  a  flimsy 


280  LOVE    GONE    ASTKAT. 

foundation  as  that.  He  persuaded  your  wife  to 
meet  him  here,  hoping  to  get  her  to  consent  to  an 
elopement,  and  if  he  had  succeeded  he  would  have 
been  open  to  prosecution  ;  but  as  he  didn't,  what 
shall  we  charge  him  with  ?  She  brought  the 
laudanum  with  her,  and  Yates  was  as  surprised  as 
any  one  when  she  locked  the  door  in  his  face  and 
swallowed  it.  I'm  not  standing  up  for  the  man — I 
felt  disgraced  by  having  to  stay  in  the  same  room 
with  him  for  twenty  minutes — but  as  to  arresting 
him  and  taking  him  to  court  it  would  be  the  silliest 
thing  imaginable.  Hartwell  won't  fancy  my  inter- 
ference, but  I  can't  help  that.  He's  a  good  detective, 
as  good  as  there  is,  but  he  don't  know  law  quite  as 
well  as  I  do." 

The  logic  of  this  reasoning  was  too  strong  to  be 
resisted,  and  Gray  had  to  admit  that  Dibbs  had 
taken  the  wisest  course.  Still  he  fully  intended  to 
get  his  own  hands  on  the  miscreant  some  day  and 
give  him  his  just  deserts.  His  sense  of  justice 
urged  that  punishment  was  due  such  a  gross  at- 
tempt against  the  rights  of  a  husband,  such  a  damn- 
able plot  to  bring  ruin  to  a  helpless  and  loving  wife. 
When  Hartwell  and  Gardiner  came  out  he  merely 
remarked  that  he  agreed  with  Mr.  Dibbs,  and  he  left 
them  to  argue  it  out  together,  while  he  went  on  tip- 
toe to  the  chamber  where  Gladys  lay  and  learned 
from  the  nurse  that  she  was  doing  nicely  and  that 
he  had  no  cause  for  fear. 

Late  that  night,  when  half  undressed,  Mr.  Dibbs 
was  told  that  a  gentleman  had  come  to  speak  to 
him,  and  begged  a  word,  notwithstanding  the  hour. 


"STAND  BACK  !"  231 

On  being  shown  in  he  saw  that  his  visitor  was  none 
other  than  Darius  Yates. 

"  You  need  not  sit  down  !"  he  said,  sternly,  as  the 
solicitor  essayed  to  take  a  chair.  "State  your  busi- 
ness quickly  and  go." 

Yates  had  hardly  strength  enough  to  stand,  and 
he  had  to  hold  to  a  neighboring  object  for  support. 

"  I  want  to  know  the  latest  news  about — her"  he 
stammered.  "  She — she  is  in  no  danger?" 

"  I  presume  you  mean  Mrs.  Gray,"  was  the  cold 
replyi  "What  is  her  condition  to  you?  You  are 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  law." 

The  dark  circles  around  the  questioner's  eyes 
grew  darker. 

"  She — she  will  live  ?"  he  persisted.  "  She  will 
recover  ?  I  will  ask  you  nothing  more  ;  but,  in  the 
name  of  mercy,  tell  me  that  !" 

"  In  the  name  of  mercy  !"  echoed  Dibbs.  "  What 
do  you  know  of  mercy — what  mercy  did  you  show  ? 
For  all  of  you  she  might  now  be  robed  for  her  grave. 
No,  she  is  in  no  danger.  The  doctor  assures  us  there 
are  years  of  happiness  for  her  yet,  with  her  children 
and  her  husband." 

Yates  winced  at  the  latter  words,  but  his  relief  at 
the  good  news  was  greater  than  all  else. 

"  Thank  you  !"  he  said,  with  a  gasp.  Then  he 
paused  a  moment  and  repeated,  "  Thank  you  !"  with 
great  earnestness. 

"  Let  me  advise  you  not  to  remain  another  day  in 
Chicago,"  said  Mr.  Dibbs,  as  he  saw  his  visitor  about 
to  depart.  "  The  man  you  have  so  deeply  injured 
may  make  it  unpleasant  if  he  finds  you  here." 

Yates  turned  and  eyed  the  lawyer  strangely. 


282  LOVK    GONK    ASTKAY. 

"It  is  he  who  has  injured  me  /"  he  said,  in  a  deep 
voice.  "  I  had  her  before  he  did.  Her  oldest  child 
is  mine — that  tells  the  story.  And  I  love  her  as  he  is 
incapable  of  loving  !  Look  in  my  face.  Death  has 
set  his  mark  there  within  the  past  six  hours.  To 
have  her  again  was  to  live  ;  to  lose  her  is  to  die. 
Let  her  husband  kill  me  if  he  wishes.  My  misery 
cannot  too  soon  find  an  end." 

He  staggered  down  the  stairway,  and  Israel  Dibbs 
went  to  his  bed  horrified. 

"  Hartwell  knew  that,  too,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  I  must  keep  Gray  from  this  man.  However  richly 
he  deserves  shooting  they  have  a  way  of  putting  men 
in  jail  here  for  that  kind  of  sport  ;  and  with  his  new 
fortune  and  his  domestic  bliss  reopened  Gray  won't 
want  to  see  the  inside  of  a  prison  just  at  present." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE    HISTORY    OF    A    CRIME. 

A  WEEK  later,  when  Mrs.  Gray  had  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  her  attempt  to  end  her  life,  she  insisted 
that  her  husband  should  hear  in  detail  the  story  she 
ought  to  have  told  him  long  before.  He  objected 
strenuously  to  having  her  excite  herself,  but  she  said 
she  was  able  at  last  to  speak  calmly,  now  that  she 
was  certain  of  his  affection  and  forgiveness,  and  that 
she  would  feel  better  when  the  ordeal  was  over. 
Pressing  a  kiss  on  her  lips,  and  uttering  a  few  words 


THE    HISTORY    OF   A   GRIME.  283 

of  caution,  Mr.  Gray  seated  himself  by  her  side  and 
listened  to  her  sad  recital. 

She  told  of  meeting  Mr.  Yates,  when  she  was  but 
seventeen,  at  the  hotel  in  London  where  she  was  liv- 
ing, and  of  the  malific  influence  which  he  began  at 
once  to  exercise  upon  her.  It  was  something  clearly 
of  the  hypnotic  order,  for  until  then  she  had  never 
felt  the  slightest  attraction  toward  the  opposite  sex, 
and  knew  almost  nothing  in  relation  to  such  matters. 
All  the  time  she  was  responding  to  his  requests  for 
secret  meetings  she  despised  and  hated  him.  On 
each  occasion  she  assured  him  that  she  never  would 
come  again,  but  consented,  at  his  next  request,  to 
come  "  just  once  more,"  and  kept  her  word. 

When  the  natural  result  followed,  it  was  reasonable 
that  she  should  still  be  guided  by  his  advice.  He 
told  her  if  she  obeyed  him  implicitly  he  would  save 
her,  and  that  there  was  no  one  else  who  could  do  so. 
He  warned  her  that  if  she  mentioned  his  name  to  her 
father  there  would  be  a  collision,  in  which  Colonel 
Newcombe  would  certainly  receive  his  death  wound. 
Thus  she  continued,  as  she  had  been  so  long,  a  pliant 
tool  in  the  hands  of  the  man  who  had  ruined  her. 

Before  many  days  he  had  perfected  a  plan.  She 
was  to  inform  her  father  that  the  cause  of  her  fall 
was  a  young  clerk  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Yates.  The 
solicitor  brought  her  a  written  admission  of  the  crime, 
signed  by  his  clerk,  and  read  it  to  her  with  glee.  He 
had  arranged  with  the  young  man  to  fly  the  country 
and  remain  away  permanently,  in  consideration  of  a 
certain  sum  of  money.  In  her  trepidation,  Gladys 
did  not  even  recall  the  clerk's  name. 

When  she  revealed   her  condition   to   her  father, 


284  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 

giving  the  cause  as  thus  arranged,  the  Colonel  was 
naturally  on  the  verge  of  insanity.  He  hastened  to 
the  office  of  the  solicitor,  and  "  as  men  tell  things  to 
lawyers  and  to  priests,"  demanded  what  could  be 
done.  The  wily  Yates  produced  the  letter  of  his 
clerk,  saying  he  had  received  it  a  few  days  before, 
and  had  been  unable  to  tell,  from  its  wild  language, 
upon  whom  the  outrage  had  been  committed.  No 
names,  it  seemed,  were  mentioned,  in  this  so-called 
"confession,"  but  its  terms  were  sufficiently  clear,  in 
connection  with  Colonel  Newcombe's  statement,  to 
locate  the  offender. 

"  What  can  be  done  ?"  asked  the  father,  distracted. 
And  the  lawyer  convinced  him,  in  the  course  of  the 
interview,  that  it  was  one  of  those  crimes  which  can 
only  be  punished  by  inflicting  much  greater  suffering 
on  the  innocent  victim.  Even  if  Margrave  could  be 
apprehended,  in  any  part  of  the  world  to  which  he 
had  fled,  and  brought  to  England  for  trial,  Miss 
Newcombe  would  have  to  go  into  court  and  swear  to 
his  conduct.  This  was  clearly  out  of  the  question* 
Yates  also  discovered,  by  adroit  suggestions,  that  the 
father  would  have  anything  happen  rather  than  give 
his  child  in  marriage  to  a  wretch  of  that  description. 

Then  came  the  idea  of  finding  a  husband  for  her, 
of  a  suitable  position  in  life,  and  its  gradual  adop- 
tion by  the  half-demented  man,  who  was,  in  his 
distress,  so  much  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  adroit 
plotter. 

How  the  husband  was  found,  Mr.  Gray  did  not 
need  to  be  told.  Gladys  Newcombe  became  Mrs. 
Gray,  and  what  seemed  like  a  new  chance  for  hap- 
piness in  her  wrecked  life  was  given  her. 


THE    HISTORY   OF   A   CRIME.  285 

"But,"  she  said,  her  lips  trembling,"!  had  not 
been  married  to  you  a  week  before  that  man's  hateful 
attentions  were  renewed.  He  managed  to  meet  me 
when  others  were  not  present,  and  to  pour  his  awful 
suggestions  in  my  ears.  We  would  be  quite  safe 
now,  he  told  me.  I  had  your  name — think  of  that* 
— to  protect  me.  I  felt  the  strong  influence  of  the 
other  days  drawing  at  my  brain,  but  the  thought  of 
you,  and  the  confidence  you  had  placed  in  me,  nerved 
me  to  resist.  And  besides,  there  was  the  unborn  life 
for  which  I  must  keep  myself  pure.  He  never  ceased 
to  persist.  He  came  to  Cannes  ;  he  sent  me  letters, 
which  he  knew  I  dared  not  show.  He  went  to 
Vienna,  hiding  from  you,  and  tried  to  make  me  see 
him.  He  was  in  Stockholm  when  Marianne  was 
born  ! 

"  Yes,  one  of  my  nurses  accepted  his  bribes.  She 
brought  me  a  bunch  of  roses  from  him,  which  I 
made  her  throw  into  the  dustbin  as  soon  as  I  saw  his 
card.  She  told  me  he  had  walked  up  and  down  an 
adjacent  street  all  night,  and  that  she  had  sent  mes- 
sages to  him  every  half  hour,  telling  of  my  condition. 
No  doubt  he  had  paid  her  handsomely  !  I  was  help- 
less to  stop  his  conduct.  My  tongue  was  tied.  I 
had  told  one  story  and  I  dared  not  begin  with  a  new 
one.  We  came  back  to  London  and  you  left  me  for 
that  long  stay  in  America. 

"Do  you  remember — I  think  you  will  never  for- 
get— the  night  before  you  sailed  ?  I  had  seen  him 
that  day,  and  he  had  said,  with  a  smile  of  confidence, 
that  after  you  were  gone  I  could  no  longer  refuse 
him.  Up  to  that  time  you  had  treated  me  distantly, 
with  only  the  ordinary  kindness  of  a  friend.  I  was 


286  LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

frightened  to  have  you  go,  for  I  felt  that  without 
your  love  to  guard  me,  his  wicked  influence  would 
be  more  than  I  could  resist.  You  came  in  to  say, 
coolly,  that  you  were  about  to  get  ready  for  your  de- 
parture, and  I  fell  fainting  to  the  floor.  That  even- 
ing I  heard  you  walking  about  your  room,  making 
your  preparations.  My  blood  mounted  to  my  head. 
If  you  left  me  like  that  I  knew  what  the  result  might 
be.  At  last  I  heard  your  voice,  and  I  went  into  your 
room.  You  thought  me  a  dreadful  creature,  one 
who  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  her  actions,  but  I  was 
desperate  !  Gilbert,  you  saved  me  from  a  fate  that 
would  have  been  worse  than  death  !  I  parted  from 
you  the  next  morning,  strong  in  the  belief  that  no 
man  could  shake  my  fealty,  and  I  was  right. 

"  Your  steamer  could  hardly  have  sailed  from 
Southampton  when  my  persecutor  came.  For  the 
second  time  he  began  to  try  the  efficacy  of  threats. 
He  said  my  father's  investments  in  America  were  in 
danger,  and  that  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  make  or 
unmake  him.  He  had  a  representative  in  Chicago, 
who  would  obey  his  slightest  suggestion,  and  if  I 
still  held  out  he  intended  to  destroy  our  fortune.  I 
did  not  believe  he  had  the  power  to  do  this,  but  if  I 
had  it  would  have  altered  nothing  in  my  behavior. 
I  was  only  careful  not  to  offend  him  unnecessarily, 
for  I  feared  to  provoke  his  anger.  Whether  he 
prayed  or  cursed,  it  was  the  same  to  me  now.  I 
would  sooner  have  thrown  myself  into  a  den  of 
wild  beasts  than  into  his  arms.  My  husband  held  my 
entire  love  and  esteem,  and  my  heart  went  out  to  him 
in  the  first  blooming  of  that  passionate  flower  I  had 
come  so  late  to  know. 


r:iK  insTOBY  OF  A  CRIME.  287 

"  My  mother's  death  and  my  father's  paralysis  did 
not  move  the  pity  of  this  madman.  When  I  needed 
the  greatest  consideration  he  forgot  everything  but 
himself.  He  told  me  one  day  that  he  could  save  a 
million  to  us  if  I  gave  the  word,  by  a  mere  signal 
over  the  cable.  I  did  not  even  trust  myself  to  an- 
swer him.  When  you  returned  he  kept  away  for  a 
short  time,  but  soon  after  we  came  to  Chicago  he 
began  to  dog  my  steps  here.  He  wrote  me  that  he 
cared  nothing  for  his  reputation,  his  profession,  his 
friends  or  his  family  ;  he  wanted  nothing  in  the 
world  but  me  !  Unless  I  submitted  to  him  he  would 
tell  you  all,  coupled  with  accusations  that  were  not 
even  founded  on  fact.  Then  came  letters  alluding 
to  your  interest  in  the  Blair  property.  He  could 
stop  your  inheriting  that  if  he  were  to  tell  what  he 
knew.  For  the  first  time  I  began  to  feel  alarmed  at 
his  power.  He  had  proved  that  his  predictions  re- 
garding my  father's  fortune  were  correct  ones. 
Were  you  to  lose  yours  also? 

"  Mr.  Margrave's  claim  was  put  in,  and  then  Mr. 
Yates  wrote  that,  if  I  asked  him  to  do  so,  he  would 
prove  that  claim  false.  In  a  mad  hope  to  move  hina 
by  an  appeal  to  his  manhood,  I  made  the  visit  he 
had  long  prayed  for,  to  his  hotel.  I  could  have  com- 
mitted no  greater  error.  Instead  of  changing  his 
attitude  in  the  least,  he  seemed  rather  to  grow 
stronger  in  his  purpose.  He  said  he  had  ruined  my 
father,  and  that  he  would  certainly  ruin  you  unless 
I  became  his  mistress.  He  did  not  insist  on  my 
leaving  you,  though  that  was  what  he  most  wished 
for  ;  but  I  must  give  him  stolen  meetings  whenever 
he  requested  them.  He  gave  as  a  new  reason  why 


288  LOVE    GONE    ASTEAY. 

be  would  not  resign  me,  that  his  wife  had  died  a 
short  time  before,  and  that  he  was  now  free  to  give 
me  his  entire  protection.  Our  meeting  resulted  in 
nothing  of  value  and  I  resolved  that  it  should  be  the 
last.  Howev«r,  his  letters  began  to  talk  of  a  final 
interview,  at  which  he  would  give  me  documentary 
evidence  that  Margrave  was  a  pretender.  I  was 
weak  enough  to  meet  him  once  more,  in  my  anxiety 
to  learn  if  this  might  be  true.  I  found  that  he  had 
merely  lured  me  there  to  renew  his  old  proposals, 
and  I  left  with  the  direst  predictions  ringing  in  my 
ears. 

"  Last  week,  when  you  accused  me  of  having  held 
meetings  with  my  baby's  father,  I  believed,  natural!)', 
that  you  knew  all.  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
you  had  referred  to  Mr.  Margrave,  or  why  you 
associated  his  name  with  mine  in  that  connection. 
I  had  now  but  one  hope — to  save  your  property. 
I  made  a  new  appointment,  and  before  I  went  to 
keep  it  I  purchased  a  bottle  of  laudanum.  If  I  could 
not  make  my  escape  with  the  documents  he  was  to 
give  me  I  would  send  them  to  you  by  a  messenger  ; 
and  rather  than  be  polluted  by  a  touch  of  his  lips  I 
would  drain  the  poison.  You  know  the  rest.  Mr. 
Hartwell,  who  watched  every  one  of  my  actions,  and 
heard  every  word  uttered  by  either  of  us,  knows 
them,  too." 

This  story  was  not  told  without  a  score  of  inter- 
jections on  the  part  of  the  distressed  listener,  who 
did  not  doubt  a  single  word  of  the  narrative.  He 
said,  when  it  was  finished,  that  Gladys  should  have 
come  to  him  in  confidence  when  the  annoyances 


THE    HISTORY   OF   A   OKIMB.  289 

began,  and  he  would  have  found  a  way  to  put  a  stop 
to  them. 

"  But,  my  dear  husband,"  she  replied,  u  when  they 
began — immediately  after  our  marriage — you  were 
almost  a  total  stranger  to  me.  It  was  nearly  a  year 
before  I  would  have  dared  trust  you  with  such  a  secret, 
and  your  love  was  then  so  new  and  so  dear  that  I 
could  not  bear  to  throw  anything  of  an  unpleasant 
nature  in  its  way.  Since  then  you  have  had  so  much 
trouble  financially  that  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  bear 
my  cross  alone.  I  kept  hoping  that  you  would  come 
into  your  possessions,  and  that  we  could  journey  to- 
some  other  corner  of  the  earth,  where  our  lives 
would  be  free  from  this  cloud.  For  that  I  waited, 
and  for  that  I  still  hope.  As  long  as  that  man  knows 
where  I  am,  he  will  surely  follow  me." 

Gray  bit  his  lips. 

"  Mr.  Dibbs  tells  me  he  is  dying,"  he  said.  "  Only 
for  that  I  should  have  gone  to  settle  my  account  with 
him  before  now." 

She  shivered. 

"  And  do  you  still  love  me,  after  all  ?"  she  asked, 
tenderly. 

"  More  than  ever.  You  were  ready  to  give  your 
life  for  me." 


290  LOVE   GONE   ASTRAY. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

EVERYTHING    EXPLAINED. 

WHEN  Jonas  Margrave  was  released  from  jail  on  a 
habeas,  the  prosecution  announcing  that  it  would  not 
push  the  case  against  him,  he  went  with  great 
promptness  to  Mr.  Gray  to  collect  the  balance  due 
on  his  loan  of  five  thousand  dollars  and  accrued  in- 
terest. 

"  This  is  part  of  the  agreement  I  made  with  Old 
Man  Dibbs,"  he  explained,  in  response  to  the  pecu- 
liar look  with  which  he  was  greeted.  "  It  was  my 
own  money,  you  know,  honestly  earned  at  the  gam- 
ing table,  and  vl'm  about  as  near  broke  as  I  ever 
was." 

Gray  opened  a  checkbook  aad  filled  in  the  details. 
It  was  true  that  he  had  borrowed  this  money,  and 
that  it  had  been  a  great  help  to  him  at  the  time. 
But  he  wondered  greatly  at  the  sang  froid  of  this  self- 
confessed  scoundrel,  in  coming  for  it  with  no  sign  of 
shame  in  his  face. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  Gray,  when  he  had 
handed  over  the  check,  "how  was  it  you  ever  acquired 
such  a  hatred  of  me  ?  Had  I  ever  injured  you  ?" 

"  Hatred  !"  echoed  the  other.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  I  never  liked  a  man  better,  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  existence." 

"  If  you  treat  your  friends  as  you  have  treated  me. 


EVERYTHIJfG    EXPLAINED. 

I  wonder  what  you  would  do  to  a  person  you  did  not 
fancy,"  remarked  Gilbert. 

Margrave  protested  against  this  form  of  accusa. 
tion. 

"  You  don't  make  any  allowance,"  he  answered, 
"for  the  difference  there  is  in  temperaments,  nor  for 
the  fact  that  my  profession  makes  unusual  calls  on 
one's  disposition.  The  actions  of  a  gambler  and  con- 
fidence man  naturally  varies  in  some  respects  from 
that  of  a  Sunday-school  superintendent.  A  fish  is  a 
fish  if  it  comes  to  my  net.  It  wouldn't  do  for  me  to 
explain  in  advance  exactly  how  I  deal  the  cards 
which  are  to  transfer  the  cash  on  the  table  to  my 
pocket.  Considering  everything,  I  feel,  upon  my 
word,  that  I  have  used  you  pretty  handsomely." 

The  listener,  with  an  incredulous  look,  asked  if  he 
might  be  honored  with  a  fuller  explanation  of  this 
seeming  paradox. 

"  Certainly,  as  full  as  you  like,'  said  Margrave. 
"  Let's  rehearse  the  entire  business.  In  Venice  you 
lent  me  forty  dollars,  didn't  you  ?  I  went  out  that 
night  and  met  the  crowd  who  had  buncoed  me  out  of 
my  last  sou  the  day  before,  and  I  got  back  all  I  had 
lost  and  more.  I  might  have  returned  you  the  money, 
of  course,  but  I  knew  it  was  like  a  sixpence  to  you, 
and  I  thought  I  had  better  hold  on  to  it  awhile. 
When  I  ran  across  you  in  Rome  I  had  had  big  luck 
and  was  living  like  a  prince.  Two  hundred  francs 
seemed  too  small  to  think  about.  I  didn't  like  to  in- 
sult a  gentleman  by  mentioning  such  a  beggarly 
sum." 

He  paused,  and  Mr.  Gray  asked,  with  a  sharp  ao 


292  LOVE   GONE    A8TKAY. 

cent,  if  he  would  now  change  the  location  of  his 
story  to  London. 

"  With  pleasure,"  was  the  reply.  "  When  you  met 
me  there  I  had  lost  all  I  had,  and  was  trying  to  keep 
up  appearances  on  wind.  I  had  rather  have  seen  the 
devil  that  day  in  Hyde  Park  than  a  man  to  whom  I 
owed  money.  I  was  afraid  of  being  watched,  be- 
sides, and  I  got  rid  of  you  as  soon  as  I  could.  But  I 
waited  an  hour  in  New  Bridge  street  that  night,  as  I 
had  promised,  and  you  did  not  come." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Gray.  "  What  about  the  next  time 
we  met  ?" 

"  Well,"  answered  Margrave,  slowly,  "  you  may 
charge  that  to  Mr.  Yates.  He  knew  something  about 
me  that  would  send  me  to  prison  if  he  gave  the  word, 
and  I  depended  on  him  just  then  for  the  bread  I  ate. 
He  told  me  to  find  you  and  get  you  in  a  positive  rage 
toward  me  in  some  way.  The  manner  didn't  matter, 
and  I  had  no  explanation  of  his  reasons.  I  didn't 
dare  disobey  him  and  I  took  the  first  way  that  pre- 
sented itself.  I  rode  down  toward  you  with  the  idea 
of  brushing  my  horse  against  yours  and  of  starting 
an  altercation.  When  the  collision  came  it  was  so 
much  harder  than  I  had  intended  that  I  was  alarmed, 
but  the  thing  was  done  and  I  couldn't  apologize  with- 
out violating  my  instructions.  I  saw  that  you  had 
sustained  nothing  worse  than  a  sprain  and  that  you 
were  being  taken  care  of,  and  I  rode  away.' 

Strange  as  the  story  was,  Gray  believed  it.  He 
saw  how  Yates  had  used  this  man  as  a  stool-pigeon 
to  induce  him  to  rescue  Gladys  from  what  looked 
Kke  the  danger  of  marrying  him.  It  had  been  a 


EVEKTTHINQ    EXPLAINED.  293 

powerful  makeweight  at  the  critical  moment,  perhaps 
the  final  ounce  that  made  the  steel  touch  the  beam. 
Yes,  it  was  very  clear. 

"  Do  you  know  why  Yates  wanted  you  to  insult 
me  ?"  he  asked,  with  an  effort. 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  do !"  was  the  earnest  reply. 
'*  He's  given  me  hints  since  then  that  he  could  raise 
the  Old  Boy  with  you,  but  I  never  was  able  to  find 
out  his  game.  He's  played  a  lone  hand  all  the  time, 
and  put  up  big  stakes,  and  as  near  as  I  can  under- 
stand-, he's  been  a  loser.  But  what  it  was  all  about 
I  don't  know,  and  I  don  t  suppose  you  are  going  to 
tell  me." 

There  was  no  reply  to  this  insinuation,  but  Gray 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  that  this  fellow  was  ignor- 
ant of  his  family  secret.  It  was  still  confined  to  Yates 
and  Dibbs  and  Hartwell.  The  two  latter  were  safe, 
and  the  former  would  hardly  make  trouble  now, 
when  on  his  deathbed. 

"  You  were  at  Amsterdam,"  was  the  next  thing  he 
said  to  the  gambler. 

"  Yes,  and  I  wrote  you  a  letter  asking  for  a  loan. 
I  was  hard  up  again,  that's  the  entire  story." 

"  And  yet  I  saw  you  here  in  Chicago,  a  few  months 
later,  with  thousands  of  dollars  to  lend." 

Margrave  laughed 'at  the  perplexity  of  his  ques- 
tioner. 

"  That's  not  hard  to  explain,"  said  he.  "  I  ran  over 
from  London  to  New  York,  and  went,  as  usual, 
straight  to  a  faro  bank.  By  an  extraordinary  run  of 
luck,  which  the  fraternity  in  that  city  have  not  yet 
forgotten,  I  carried  off  seventy-five  thousand  dollars 


294  LOVE  GONE  ASTRA.* . 

in  three  days.  With  the  proceeds  I  came  here  and 
found  everybody  talking  wheat.  I  made  a  deal  with 
a  big  concern,  by  which  I  was  to  put  out  a  broker's 
sign,  and  take  applications  for  money  at  high  rates. 
All  I  had  to  do  was  to  go  into  my  inside  office,  and 
speak  to  my  principals  over  a  private  wire.  If  they 
gave  word  to  take  the  loan,  I  took  it,  paying  out  my 
own  money,  and  ten  minutes  later  they  had  it  off  my 
hands.  My  compensation  was  a  handsome  percent, 
age.  I  did  mighty  well,  but  like  a  fool  I  had  to  put 
my  fingers  into  the  fire  against  their  advice.  The 
money  I  loaned  you  for  Colonel  Newcombe  was  my 
own,  and  you  know  what  became  of  it.  It  was  a 
risk  that  my  principals  declined,  but  I  thought  I 
knew  more  than  they  did.  To  tell  the  truth,  Yates 
led  me  into  that,  for  he  kept  wiring  me  from  London 
and  he  said  the  sum  was  safe.  I  think  now  he  meant 
I  should  lose  it,  so  as  to  get  me  into  his  clutches 
again." 

It  was  an  odd  story. 

"  Was  it  possible  for  Mr.  Yates,  at  any  time,  to 
have  prevented  Colonel  Newcombe's  failure  ?"  asked 
Gray,  anxiously. 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  And  could  he  have  done  anything  to  hasten  it  ?" 

"  Nothing  whatever." 

The  solicitor  had  been  playing  on  Gladys'  fears, 
then,  without  any  foundation,  and  had  claimed  to  be 
the  cause  of  events  with  which  he  had  no  connection. 

"When  I  went  back  to  England,"  continued  Mar- 
grave, "  I  went  to  see  Yates,  and  found  him  overjoyed 
to  learn  that  Colonel  Newcombe  had  lost  about  the 


EVERYTHING  EXPLAINED.          295 

whole  of  his  fortune.  He  didn't  seem  to  be  very 
sorry  I  had  lost  mine,  either,  and  he  lent  me  twenty 
pounds  grudgingly.  When  I  applied  for  more  soon 
after,  he  threatened  me  with  the  police,  and  I  kept 
out  of  his  way  for  a  long  time.  America  seemed  the 
best  field  for  my  efforts  and  I  soon  returned  to  this 
country.  One  day  I  ran  across  Yates  here.  He 
asked  me  how  I  would  like  to  inherit  a  handsome 
fortune.  Of  course  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  object  in 
the  least.  He  said  if  I  followed  his  directions  care- 
fully perhaps  that  sort  of  luck  would  come  to  me.  I 
was  to  announce  myself  as  Julius  Margrave,  and 
claim  to  be  my  briber, 

"When  I  remarked  that  Julius,  who  had  disap- 
peared some  years  before,  might  turn  up,  Yates  said 
he  had  heard  from  him,  and  that  he  was  in  a  distant 
country,  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption.  It  was 
impossible  that  he  could  ever  trouble  me.  I  followed 
his  directions,  and  finally  he  came  with  a  letter  show- 
ing that  Julius  was  dead.  He  would  not  tell  me  the 
particulars  of  the  windfall  that  was  to  be  mine,  but 
said  I  must  leave  everything  to  him.  I  had  succeeded, 
by  his  advice,  in  getting  a  room  at  your  bouse,  and 
he  used  to  ask  me  daily  about  the  family.  His  spite 
against  you  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  intense, 
but  I  did  not  see  any  way  he  could  harm  you.  Then 
came  the  letter  that  you  intercepted,  and  I  under- 
stood everything.  His  only  object  in  putting  me  in 
the  way  of  getting  rich  was  to  deprive  you  of  the 
money.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  make  a 
generous  deal  with  you,  if  I  got  possession,  and  you 
remember  I  offered  you  a  quarter  of  what  I  should 


LOVE   GONE    ASTRAY. 

receive.  Yates  didn't  know  that,  for  when  I  found 
how  nicely  things  were  working  my  way  I  refused  to 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  him." 

There  was  no  reason  to  doubt  the  history  thus  de- 
tailed. In  his  mad  pursuit  of  Gladys,  Yates  had 
spared  no  one.  To  induce  her  to  go  to  him  he  had 
played  every  card  in  the  pack,  careless  of  all  other 
results. 

"  You  lent  me  this  five  thousand  dollars  in  a  curi- 
ous way,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,  I  had  just  made  seven  or  eight  thousand  at 
play,  and  I  was  afraid  I  should  lose  it  if  I  didn't  put 
it  somewhere.  I  thought  it  the  safest  investment  to 
lend  it  to  an  honest  man  like  you.  And  besides,  I  was 
out  with  Yates  at  the  time  and  I  wanted  to  keep  him 
from  driving  you  to  the  wall,  as  he  had  so  often 
sworn  to  me  he  would  do." 

"You  are  a  strange  combination,  Mr.  Margrave. 
Are  you  going  through  the  rest  of  your  life  as  you 
have  begun  ?  You  have  narrowly  escaped  a  long 
term  in  prison.  Will  it  be  a  warning  to  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know, "was  the  cool  reply.  "I  suppose 
it  depends  on  my  luck.  It's  late  to  teach  the  old  dog 
many  new  tricks.  However,  I  don't  think  I'll  get 
into  any  more  schemes  as  deep  as  the  last  one.  It 
was  really  a  little  out  of  ray  regular  line." 


Well,  that  is  about  the  end  of  the  story.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Gray  took  their  children,  as  soon  as  business 
matters  could  be  arranged,  and  went  for  a  long  stay 


EVERYTHING   EXPLAINED.  297 

abroad,  where  they  still  are.  I  hear  there's  a  third 
child  now.  So  happiness  has  come  to  them,  after  their 
many  misadventures  ;  but  I  don't  believe  Gray's  ex- 
perience would  induce  many  men  to  follow  in 
steps.  He  took  a  pretty  large  risk. 


"  Yates  died,  of  course  ?"  the  reader  will  ask. 
Yes,  Yates  died. 


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